Fallout New Vegas
by Sdhfs
Summary: The story of New Vegas with the Courier at it's core, dealing with brutal Caesar's, bloodthirsty savants, blowhard generals & stave shocked soldiers, mercurial autocrats, flimsy followers, old world blues leading to new world pains, strange love, old hearts, humanism against humanity, the fight for a group with some wronghearted mercenary who might just hold all the cards after all
1. Woof

Robert heard the whine of the elevator as it approached the penthouse floor, slung upwards through his gentle mistress with a grace diminished only by the wear of long decades. Inside was an important, if not more importantly irate cargo. He doubted that the easy conveniences of brisk motor-assisted living, remaining like so many other simplistic affections of the old world as a single consistent constant within the tarnished beauty that was the lucky 38 was now appreciated by the arrival. It was a quality of difference that he could appreciate the difference from that very human refusal to act cordially when proud men were involved against the inability to appreciate apparent in his dulled-by-nature sentinels; a shame indebted to his self imposed exile above all other things when the situation was considered fully.

The cargo held an imperishable, if not undestroyable quality, determinable in both the intangible to the physical: Alex-of-no-known-familial-name, most likely false; better known firstly as a courier of the Mojave Express, then as Courier Six, a title with an almost titular quality given his notables: simultaneously a victim and villian of the Mojave, chosen by Benny's recklessness to become a torrential force of dusk, dirt, grime, blood and bombs, a cult figure for the wretched and sublime denizens of his pseudo-city; enthralling them with notions of the man who can't be killed, the man who can't be seen!

How else could he have picked himself up from a grave and hunted down his killer across the length of the Mojave? How could he have reached the inner recesses of the legion and execute the head of the chairman at Kaiser's feet? Of course these dolts would believe in the superstitious nonsense bandied about in explanation, the only razor they'd ever heard of was a straight one from the tops steam baths.

Luck intermingled with skill in the right situations formulated a heady dose of fame Robert had always found. His own experiences spoke of that of course. He hadn't been destined to ascend to his lofty heights even with his genetic brilliance, he'd fared well when the facing the sheer faced heights of life and brought himself to the tallest tower of his own will - fate was an ironic twist within the mind and no more. Skill was a key determinant in his affairs when tempered against a pragmatism that spoke against the filthy undercurrent that rode through Vegas with the New Republic Infestation - New Republic! What was so new about it? The dullards and apologists who had woven their naive attempt at civilisation had repeated a mistake that had cost them the world.

Skill, a touch of deception on his part. What he really meant was unadulterated violence; shooting and stabbing, explosions and energy, blood and guts and tears faced by a man with the ability to ration his compassion against progress.

Alex had brought some form of energy weapon with him, slung in a holster where 45 usually would remain, a gift from another dead man as Robert had been cryptically told. Had his former employee turned potential rival brought something that he imagined would overwhelm his remorseless robotic sentinels?

He'd found the limits of the mans compassion too constricting after a time, and they'd parted as any gentlemen would have in the old world.

The Courier had finished Robert's offering of his now priceless Galich's 39 in a steady gulp, not temperate or fearful of a reprisal for his spurned offer.

"No concern that I might wish you out of the way Mr Sennser?" Robert couldn't have refused himself the temptation of the mans reply. His wit was a welcome removal from the base creatures that infected his sanctuary with their pettiness.

"I'd have enough faith in your ego that you'd tell me of my demise Robert." Oh how he enjoyed the sly lines of youth that Alex's face held, here was the reckless adventurer he required for his vision.

He didn't think it would be that man today that stormed into his penthouse, adrenaline pulsating through his glands, his hand eager for the release of his new weapon, another failure of Robert's daring.

Perhaps.

Here was a mystery for even the ultimate enigma Robert House, a trickster that was oh so much more than Benny with his shortsighted greed.

He wouldn't have it any other way Robert realised as the doors withdrew, so much of his new man was unknown, chance! What a delightful allowance that he couldn't ever marshall.

The enjoyment that was unpredictability had entered the room with Alex's non-existent footsteps, hope began to coil itself in his breast, even as he was removed from his breast. That Alex could be saved against the man's over attempts at moral clarity.

Robert had entertained many of the movers within his dusty little corner of this demented hell planet, but none protested morality like his own butcher.

"You can't expect me to murder the brotherhood for you." Alex had been irate, attempting to withhold his anger under the guise of preventing cruel reason, "Men, women and children, buried in the ground for your closed vision." That had irritated Robert himself, only in the fashion that this perishable little person could acomplish.

"An odd claim from a man willing to unleash destruction on those savants with his own gained resources - and for what? A chivalric idea of facing an enemy like some jousting hero? Bah!" The anger was visible then, Alex the easily riled.

"Chivalry? I've buried more people than I've known who never ever managed a glance my way!" What pride he held for slaughter! "You're talking about destroying a critical resource available to you, you can't control everything Mr House."

"The brotherhood as allies? They are a threat, a force capable of undermining the control of my securitrons if any could." This boy was too trusting, were was the worthy cynicism that allowed him to skirt around Edward Swallows grim brutality? "I require only the skulking ignorance afforded by the realities of the Mojave. I don't require those able to challenge me." Alex had became hard eyed then, the hawkish features of his face forming his brutal face, his butcher face.

"I won't bury a friends family just so you can side-step a skirmish, you'll find my mercy is apparent once if not always Mr house."

That girl, the fresh faced californian zealot labelled ridiculously as a scribe had infected Alex's decisions, like a mask of illusion distracting the minds eye. How easy was it for men to be fooled by their base urges, how easily it could anger Robert, another agent seduced by his thoughts of easy pleasure.

"Hi there Hon, Robert's just stepping over his toes to see ya!" Jane's greeting was returned with a polite return, inflected with the curious effects of the Courier's eastern origins.

Through the arch he came, at the perfect point for Robert to have him tussled up and strangled as he'd often thought he might have needed done with Benny, and what a sight he was: dusk was the word for the man, sharp eyed and stern, held across a shadowed face that held an appeal he could feel across Jane's neuro-matrix, given to a look of casual lethality. His coat was tarnished, a long desert stained fabric that was effortlessly intimidating when coupled with his soot stained jeans, the military beret and single eyed prey-vision lens.

Robert reminded himself that Alex could be the most ruthless of murderers when his mind was set. He had already financed his punic incursions against the legion, amassed a considerable armoury filled with all different manners of explosives both crude and sophisticated.

"Mr House." Alex greeted him. Did he wish to tell Robert of his demise, burst into a frenzy of action that would reduce his robotic defences to scrap? Robert reminded himself of the auxiliary units powered down and awaiting instruction in his antechamber.

"Mr Sennser, I take it you come to report on the big empty?" They had made an agreement sometime after Alex's refusal to destroy the brotherhood, both of them pragmatists of course. He realised the youth had looked to have a hand near Robert's throat if he succeeded in his aim; of this he was certain, and where else could the Courier secure the funding for his bloodbaths against the legion?

"You're already well informed of that." Alex held no visible signs of injury, did he ever? The man was a borne soldier to the eyes of someone who couldn't read anything beyond the apparent abilities of a person. This cynical formation of their more adrenal savage genes as just a simple soldier?

Who would give him the orders? did Caesar plan to betray Pompei outright or was his heart turned cold by lust for glory?

"Indeed I am, I see you've managed to neutralise the effectives of the crater, impressive given their number and exotic nature." From a barely functional satellite he had watched Alex battle his way through a myriad of prototypes from the Big Empty facility, almost enthralled; witnessing how the man whipped and flailed through the massed ranks of roboscorpians with reckless abandon. There he found what removed humanity from the future, that lusting after the ultimate test of visceral combat.

"You sent my friends into a death zone." It was a clear statement under his stony expression, no anger held at a bite away behind his razor-like cheeks. Could he really overwhelm Robert's guard units? All of those roboscorpians, cyberdogs and brainless flesh-sacs, numberless against the singular of Alex - dismantled and slaughtered equally. "I offered your friends a contract, which they accepted." Where had he learned to use what was a ridiculously fabricated plasma-charged axe like that? The man was peerless with some needless tool fashioned by the impotents of the old world crater, how could he fathom such effortless skill with a weapon he'd never imagined before?

I must have his genes for my future plans Robert realised. It was so crucial if he was to escape his self imprisonment.

"You should have waited for my return." Alex faced the pixilated face of Robert without fear, reminded himself of the bulge under his coat; not as useful as a shoulder holster, but readily available for purchase.

Would he use it? Would he finally come to a head with his generous benefactor? He reminded himself that Arcade had once remarked that a mercenary like him would allow House to gut them all, if only he gave over another shiny weapon for Alex to have his fun with.

The easily upset follower had something of a penchant for the dramatic statement, of course he didn't think that of him.

"You have gotten my friends killed."

"Your friends are very much alive." House's bored voice annoyed him, there was always too much chastisement in his voice for mere trivial emotional matters.

"At the hands of some deranged lunatic." Alex remembered the voice of this Ulysses, the man who labelled him the man of his nightmares, a sleeping beast that had ruined the world - he didn't even realise he'd pissed off someone that much and couldn't have cared beyond curiosity.

"Please...just don't hurt us! Get away from him!" The voice was Veronica's, the very idea of innocence. She was one of a kind in the wasteland, more impressive than any of House's clever contraptions; any of his towering towers of pre-war glory, his merciless securitron armies.

Alex was always assured that the world was destroyed. But could he make a world where Veronica's was the person to drag them forward? It was a teasing flick of salvation at the back of his mind.

"What did you pay them to do?"

"To stop a madman. One of the more dangerous sorts that has appeared at this critical juncture."

"I know he's a madman! Where is he? What makes him so dangerous?"

"A number of functional nuclear batteries."

"What?! how could you not know about this?!"

"Me? I believe it was you that has stoked up this man's anger."

"I don't even know him! he's a rambling lunatic, like my past is his own."

"We both know you've came from a fractured past." Alex bristled at that.

"Don't attempt guilt on me Robert. It's an insult that you'd even think I could be guilted by things not in my control." So it was, a cheap shot that House appreciated the reprisal too.

"Quite. But not it remains what is to be done." Alex laughed, light and dry.

"Let's not play around each other Robert, we both know whats going to happen." Alex imagined irony would be surging through House's neurological matrix, they both knew what was to come.

Will he go for the gun Robert wondered?

"When did you know about this man?" Ah, there was the mind at work, the deduction motivators pressing themselves.

"At his attempts of contacting you." Alex was quicker than most. Minds are but machines, functions and processes at differing levels of operational efficiency.

"So you sent my friends towards some unhinged psycho on your own behalf? How could you be so irresponsible!?" Robert vocally groaned, god he despised this trivial nonsense of Alex's creation, what matter was it that he used certain protein based constructs over others?

"I suppose you'll have some fun dealing with this fanatic." Mr House felt tired without the ability to feel so, Alex had his points of aggravation as any reduced humanoid did of course.

"What can you tell me about this man? what is the Divide?" Robert connected himself towards Alex's Pip-Boy, downloaded all of the requisite information towards his prodigy.

"A particularly mad part of this already loose wasteland." It was as fine an answer as he could relieve himself off, these bi-pedal beasts were messy, he had been messy - he could be gleefully messy again.

Alex quickly examined the information within his Pip-Boy, amazed at the supposed barbarity held within this region.

"This is some tale..." Alex found his mouth was dry, human feasting words that were an evolution of the old form long pork - savantry. If this was truly the case then this was a considerable problem...it automatically reminded him of Sierra Madre.

"This is a severe problem." He had to forget about Robert's duplicity for a moment, forget about his almost unknowing hateful behaviour, "If everything included in this report is true then we have a concern." We!

"Primed nuclear warheads are always a problem yes." Alex caught Robert's visage with a severe look.

"Don't be smart...though I doubt you could help that." Alex's mind drifted back to Veronica's voice, god he couldn't imagine her hurt. It was a fight to keep his composure. "These men you describe seem formable, and there equally numerous; as well as these other burrower creatures. I doubt I can deal with this."

"Why so faltering Alex? Surely your skills of bloodletting aren't lost upon you?"

"I'm the best killer in the world, bar the presidents and despots of course." Alex replied, casually sadistic, "No, these...whatever they are, they going by your reports are problematic. I doubt I'd be able to overcome then myself, given that they appear perched to overcome anyone who enters the Divide."

"You have a proposal then, a strategy?" Oh yes, he was good, this one was calculating beyond what he prescribed as his moral code, as alwaysa pleasure.

"We hire the dirtiest, most hard backed mercenary company we can find, as much men as they can field quickly." Dispensable men for his friends, how very moral, "Send them into this Divide, let them hit these burned men hard."

"And you?" Robert couldn't wait to hear it, the bravado.

"I'll go in with a LSAR rifle, quiet, this information is invaluable - how did you know so much about the missile defences in this areas?"

"What? No overwhelming violence; no overt brutality, convoluted hatreds?"

"Well it's only early yet, who knows Robert; maybe I'll get to rape a few of these monsters, teach them a lesson about messing with the big bad Courier." He knew when he attempted to contact me... "Robert, I can only guess at what your intention was in dragging my friends into this-"

"Do not threaten me Sennser!" Robert blared his voice across his penthouse, his penthouse!

Had Robert's voice shaken Alex the unworried? the callous killer?

"Let me remind you of something Robert." Voice calm, Alex sprung! hand whipping inside his cloak at a roll, his securitrons no chance, twsp! twsp! They had seconds between them, a charge of the weapon but what did it matter? Suddenly they were there, Alex with his weapon in hand docile and Robert still in control.

"I'm a considerable ally, a considerable enemy." Alex holstered his weapon, deadly and calm as the guard securitrons smoked faintly. "We'll talk about the fact that you put my friends into the path of some animal to stir me to whatever action, after I stop the madman with the nuclear weapons."

"Remember who controls this place." House returned, unabashed was he? "This is my city, your my employee, your friends are at my whim."

Alex laughed.

"So where these guards of yours." Alex turned away without another word, towards this Ulysses.

"Remember Sennser! I am the future of the human race!" Robert bellowed through his communication systems, damn that man!, "Don't return here with any subversive ideals. You've played your hand."

"So you think." Alex was gone in a wisp of electrical activity in a moment, leaving Robert with his new asset; the satellite over what had once been a key strength of this maligned continents last great power.

A critical threat now. He realised that watching this Ulysses upon his perch, the king over all these horrific animals that failed their destitute lands.

A first thought that occurred inside that feral mind.

How could a man come to such a place; of hope, of desperation and fearful forbearance...and annihilate to it's very foundations?

Alex caught only a little slip off the shadow as it passed along the broken crucible.

There were no remnants of Hopeville here, Ulysses realised that even as he craned his gaze over the forlorn cityscape.

The Courier, number Six, the man from the east, yet not a legion man? impossible! how could a man exist from the east and not bear the lash of Kaiser's mighty whip?

Even Lanius had bowed, Graham before him.

Here was a man, not so vicious, not so hate filled as these two men of the killing arts, and yet.

An entire hope, an entire breath for humanity was decimated beyond all repair.

He was coming, but there were was no outrageous bloodletting as Lanius would engineer, no sickening atrocity as Graham would have guaranteed.

Sixteen dead mercenaries with an equal number of burned men along with them, the result was non-committal and inconclusive to the main scale of the Divide.

Unless you thought of the three bodies across the badlands - the badlands of a place like the Divide!

Ulysses had nearly not found them, hunting for the Republic sniper that had survived his initial ambush and assault.

"Please! You're killing yourself." So the girl had said, and when pressed Ulysses had understood the truth of them.

A trio of almost peaceful burned men, a bullet wound each; no ordinary rifle, calculated piercings with determined results.

His message at the beginning silo had been transmission to a mercenary long dead.

This Courier was a cancer who could infect even the most tumultuous places, the Divide was Ulysses fortress trapped under madness.

He was here, under the skin of them all; his knife! That knife that had helped them bury this place was busy at work.

The explosions started a day from when the realisation awakened inside him, a methodical destruction of the burned men as they hunted - another lesson being taught here.

How could you teach the sadistic men of this place a lesson in savagery? That was what Alex Sennser was determined to do.

Body by body, Ulysses held to his plan, the Courier would come for his little device sooner rather than later; and the Republic sniper? Leave him to rot.

Boone reminded himself of that fate, festering in a tight duck in some arid hillside, bleeding from his stomach to his feet from exposure and enemy treatment.

He was going to die slowly, leaving all of his friends to die at the hands of the legionary nightmare.

He'd let Joshua Graham remain on this world so that he could protect those ill tribals of his, all of Alex's behalf.

The man had filled Craig's desires to slaughter the legion in the masses, but he'd realised very quickly that their was a mischief about the strangling from the east that he never fully understood.

Alex was fond of the sweet girl with the jet black features that held that irreplaceable enthusiasm for life, just like Carla in a world of dead men.

Boone distracted himself with the foolish thought for a moment, long enough for a massed figure to leap onto him from above.

He tangled with the burned man; mangled to toss him off and level his knife at it's throat -

"Already cut." Craig turned at the voice. Impossible, but there he was, Courier Six.

"Took your time." Boone grunted. Ever the strong silent type.

"Here, take care of yourself." Alex handed Boone his supply of quick access marvel medical supplies, enough for that rough bullet wound and split shin, "This place is a nightmare world, I'd be surprised that you survived if you weren't yourself." Boone almost - almost smiled.

"I'm a hard man to kill."

"Especially with legion everywhere." Alex fell forward into the little crevice, dangerous. "This place needs to be dealt with, and I don't know if I can do it alone."

"You want to find the girl?" Alex choked at the directness of the question.

"I hate that she'll never care about me in the same...fashion will we say? But I can't let her go." Craig heard the determination, had heard it before in his own voice, "You were unlucky last time, ambushed and beaten." Alex held his rifle as him, an easy kill bozer rifle. "The first are meant to be ghosts - I say let's give these bastards nightmares."

Craig smiled, honestly.

"Ulysses is legion. Let's hunt this prick down."


	2. Hoonga

Veronica realized that he was back when she caught the white of his eyes, as bright as the lucky old sun in the darkened lock-up that he held her in. It wasn't the first time she'd caught him here, over her without a breath, silent as a spectre.

"Your hero is on his way." Ulysses always spoke in that smoldering baritone, she remembered how he calmly stated Boone's death - "Your republic friend tumbled into the abyss."

"Then your dead." She never did manage the same icy tones as the Courier could emit, the big soft oaf held a venom that could stop a cazador.

"More than likely." Ulysses was a cold killer, she knew that much at least.

"Why did you do this? You're going to get yourself killed, and for what? So that you can take a shot at Alex?" You would have that chance anywhere in the Mojave she knew, a man with Ulysses's cunning, the legion had nearly succeeded even at the heart of House's little fiefdom.

"The Courier owes this place a debt, owes us all a debt. He'll pay here, in the deadlands of his creation." Didn't this guy just love to hear himself ramble, he was too cryptic!

"What are you talking about?" Ulysses sighed, almost unperceived.

"The new world died here, a victim of Courier Six's nature. Everywhere he walks - death follows." Veronica shook her head even in the darkness.

"You don't know him, he wouldn't do anything like this; couldn't cause this, all this killing isn't his doing, he wasn't even here!" This place; the Divide, it was hateful, the only place she imagined to ever hold an emotion across every mind that caught sight of it's tortured land. Alex wasn't able to create this, it was the old world.

"Does a president have to sit atop every massacre his soldiers carry out? Or a Kaisar over ever lesson taught? A thing, something of a mans making can be felt across the eons."

"I don't believe you." Veronica wouldn't become part of this mans deranged fantasies, he'd already killed Boone, hurt Cass.

"He's a murderer!" Ulysses snarled! It made her jump, her mind went to the wicked knife she'd seen on his belt.

"So are you!" She was more shrill than snarl, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of cowering.

Ulysses grunted, breathed a deep cleansing breath, he must suffer from so much exposure here she realized.

"A murderer I am, as all men are in their hearts." He was remorseless, utterly without mercy. "But mines is a slaughter driven by purpose; for the rebirth of us all. Your beloved - Courier Six? He is without cause, a bloodletter who serves no man, no cause, a man of utter irresponsibility."

"Says the legionary." Veronica accused, it should have been a curse to him, to anyone with a heart, "You want to talk about Alex? Fine - Why don't you illuminate what your ideas are on slavery? How many slaves have you freed, he's taken whole families right under the legions nose."

Ulysses was anything but abashed, she could tell his face under the shades.

"The atrocities of the legion are but the realities of the world. The cover that is Kaisar's malevolence will give way to a perfect order if allowed."

Veronica knew all about the legion, had witnessed it at the foot of Kaiser's camp herself; the atrocity was the legion itself.

"Maybe your sick world, not ours."

"And yet our world suffocates yours." Ulysses drawled lazily, perhaps he'd kill her, but if Alex came or not? "The bull will overcome the bear, the ideals of the legion will strangle your slothful republic, and New Vegas will shine with Kaisar's dreadful purpose." Control the coinage and you control the world, Arcade had told her that before. The legion hanging over Vegas, the Dam; Helios one, it was a perverted fantasy that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Your republic mongrel will fall before the shadow of this old flag." Ulysses had left her then, leaving a dusted pack of pre-war nutrition packs, some water; keeping her alive then for his grand display.

Alex had to stop this maniac. He was the only one who could.

Those burned men though...every one of them was a nightmare.

What did Alex say about nightmares? You become their nightmares; you don't allow them to become yours.

Alex remembered saying it, but it was the Courier who meant those words.

"You're a dangerous man when the mask comes on." Cassidy had said that, Arcade had agreed. Veronica had lent over and gave _her big sweetie _a sloppy kiss on the cheek that she regretted once he turned and lapped her own like a dog, Boone had stayed quiet but Alex imagined the quiet man knew all about it. The mask.

He put it on so often it rarely came off, it had been on tight ever since he'd entered the wastelands - the true wastelands. Not the faltering form found the Mojave where the two great beasts wrangled with each other, stubborn mules fighting over the shattered husk of _civilization._

Alex had all he needed here, in this place were the greatest species of this planet had shown their truest hearts. This was what kept him at House's feet, begrudgingly but determinedly, Robert Edwin House was disbelieved and feared, all the filthy whispers surrounded him for his seeming immortality, but he knew what drove men to their madness.

He'd led Boone to the laughable _safety _of a blown out warehouse somewhere in the debris of Ashton, struck always by the tainted tang corona that threatened the eyes of all men here. It was pure wasteland, arid and without remorse.

Boone was braced up beside him as he peered out through the storm fires.

"This storm is cutting through this place." Boone said, grim faced.

"This place is cutting through this place." The Courier corrected him.

They had fought their way through the Divide - the deadly surface and nightmarish depths. The little beasts of the underground had nearly had them more than once, his stealth suit appeared to leverage no safety from their amazing senses; Boone was a one hundred and ninety pound liability, their long rifles had been scrubbed in favor of makeshift nail guns.

"How's the arm?" Boone had asked after Alex appeared unbalanced if only for a moment, the blocker for foreign agents he'd had installed in the sink had faltered at the sheer potency of the venom nascent inside him. It'd be a long jagged scar that ran from his shoulder through to his wrist, the little bugger hadn't budged even with a knife buried through it's sternum.

I committed this.

It was a harkening thought, the idea that this entire madness had been his doing; these burned men had been seared through to their flesh for the benefit of his pocket, all their victims had fallen under his actions.

A strange feeling.

"We'll need to move soon." Boone reminded him.

"Aye, we've cut a bloody swath through that highway for the burned men to follow." So they had, a magnificent detonation that had caused a highway causeway to shatter rather than crumble, eviscerating a host of deathclaws that blocked their path.

"This big boy rifle will help matters." Boone appreciated their small accumulation of useful gear from the scrapings of the military bunkers, they'd found a vehicle killer with enough armor piercing rounds to slow him down with their weight.

Craig felt as if he was running on an empty tank, the cocktail of drugs Alex had delivered to him had given him all the staying power they required to finish themselves here, but it felt as if his skin was no longer his own.

"We need to kill that legion son-of-a-bitch." They needed to save their friends as well, Alex had to save the girl; to save himself from Craig's own torment.

"There's more to this than putting a bullet in his face." The Courier wondered if Boone ever felt upset at using his LSAR rifle, did it feel queer in his hands, the stink of the burned man was there upon it always.

It would have been a nice thing for Joshua to be here, the man was a determined killer. The Courier had learnt lessons on hatred from the malpius legate - chilling and unsettling lessons.

Ulysses taunted him as they finished their toil through the Divide, stole his machine friend and set the watchers of this place upon him.

They were dripping in places and bleeding in others as they reached his desecrated temple, Boone's wounds had reopened and he stepped everyday forward with heavy feet.

Alex had a sickeningly flapping skin intrusion; a knife that had sheared off a great deal of the flesh from his previously un-wounded arm. A bullet had imbedded itself into his shoulder, the descent of their final entry payment towards Ulysses' and the conclusion of this place.

It had been a shock when they descended into his dwelling hole, a battery of nuclear weapons; enough to level Mojave or cut the bears throat.

His implants bore him on however, he was teetering on the brink of engineering, House's machinations for him, subtle.

"No shooting Boone. Not yet." They approached the heart of his temple, passing primed missiles that sat waiting for his signal, woke the little bot that had became an ally. "He's smart enough to have put a failsafe towards these things, these dirty remnants." He wondered if Craig would have been able to summon up the strength even to lift his rifle, the man dragged himself along now.

Perhaps that was for the best, no republic men could last long in the wolf den, and Boone was the very best of them.

He looked over the man that he could only caught the barest glimpse off, the face behind the great terror. He was described in his cloth, that old world flag that had affected the Courier across his adventures.

Everywhere he went he faced those ill favored stars. Black pants, a coarse ratty shirt, thick boots slick with grime; he'd been mobile only recently, a breather protected his lungs from the ill effects of this deranged place just as it did for Alex and Craig.

There was no signs of comfort here at the very base of his spine, a featureless cold old war place that would have suited him fine.

"Even in this place, NCR's shadow falls." There was that deep recess of emotion, raw. "Or is it just, you, Courier Six, without the Bear's corpse to weigh you down?" He didn't even glance at Boone, who struggled to steady himself; blood leaking through his battered armour. Ulysses would have been smiling under his mask Alex imagined, here was his proof, the weeping republic solider that the Courier had dragged through their lands.

"It matters little, if you still attempt your naive vanities. Either way, the Divide giants are awakening. The missiles here, on their way home." The statement was final, cold.

"There is no way to stop them." Alex held up a hand that stalled Boone's action, he was predictable like so many others, but this man was not.

That unpredictability bled from his restlessness, he stank of it, that curse of man that cost them so much.

It could be fashioned towards another's ends however, hadn't his place at House's side shown that?

"All that death and destruction, the breath of humanity stolen...for what? A mistake." Alex knew the defender he hand strapped to his shoulder was meaningless now, he could kill Ulysses with it easily and still doom them all.

"No...a purpose was here...a mistake? Yes. The Divide...the chip...the machine you brought here..." Ulysses still had to make sense of it, he'd said he held only answers - No. He wanted them. "Many messages can be taken from your...carelessness. What I do here lies in convictions."

"You're burning away the new world for mans careless nature." Alex took a step forward, Ulysses's eyes betrayed his lack of care, his fingers twitched. This one wanted the blood and sweat.

"Don't doom the world for my sins - Come and see if you can punish me for them."

"Blame you, doom them? No, I learned from you. Both the weapon to kill a nation, and the strength to destroy it." Something deep inside the Courier, every sense of him said strike now, kill the beast! Hope for chance in the depths for salvation.

"You showed me a road, a way to carry a message. You've already answered for what you done. Now the flag you follow will answer for it." Alex laughed suddenly and abruptly, not forced.

"How could you think I follow the bear, what would make you miss the core of the beast you hope to slay?" Now Alex played his deceptions, who did he follow? Not even the people who he fought with knew completely.

"I've seen all you've suffered for the west, all the pain you've inflicted on the east." Ulysses's began yet fell short off, the Courier's derision lent him towards anger. "You think this amusing? The death keel of your nation?"

"Tell me, which nation is that?" The innocence of the question offended Ulysses.

"The bear of course. You reek of it's trappings." Suddenly he realized what he found in this man, his own perfect frustrations! Boone mimicked that nation, folded under the pressures of his wounds. "You've walked the west, realized that the bear is a nation of children. Growing without structure, following a symbol without knowing its history."

"Knowing you believe in it's sickness, have given it strength...then that gives more reason to lay waste to your homeland." Alex broke the moment by turning to Boone, lent over him as Arcade had before, "After this, only one flag will remain over the Mojave-" Alex took the stimpak he concealed under the cleft of his Pip-Boy, jabbed it into the split in his friends armor so that his blood would slow it's dispersion. "Let that one flag fly, or destroy itself." Alex rose, dusted off his knees.

"There's your republic: On it's back, labored, valiant but troubled." The Courier didn't have the reserve to pull punches for the sake of Boone's consumption. "A great man, an honest man, but not a man to drag us savages from our the lowly stamp of our base origins." Alex pulled free his defender, aimed towards Boone's chest.

"I could kill him now, and it would be easy. The same could be done for the republic even without these monstrosities" Alex returned his weapon.

"If he were my enemy, my true enemy. But the reality is that Craig Boone; the New Californian Republic, they are not my enemy, they are merely a lesson."

"What lesson?"

"The lesson of failure in the face of our own dark nature. They've taught both of us lessons, but they aren't finished in that." Alex's own mind told that Ulysses was one of his kind, the restless warriors, wishing to bend the world to the perfect form.

"History proves your words perhaps. You've caused mischief in their lines at times for the roboticists."

"I would turn the republic towards mankind's salvation, towards its breath! But to think that I would have them as the bearers of our future? Ha!" Ulysses fought within himself - that supposed battle they were to have under the old stars was beyond fists and bullets now.

He was not to be believed! The skulking Courier Six, the dirty faced eastern who'd fooled a god, ran with the bear.

"You wish to build beyond what the republic could only fathom in their fantasies?" Ulysses still fought, he wanted Alex to gut him - just to prove that hatred right. "This is not the senate floor Courier, the missiles cannot be prevented from launching. Convincing me will leave you with nothing."

"Convincing me leaves us as two men together, focused together towards a new world, a true new world!" Alex forced the zealotry into his voice, inflected every little nuance. His mind was already calculating, he was the human computer; he could still save Veronica, all of them, and if the west died? Vegas remained unbroken.

"There is a shadow of a nation behind you, the hope of a people... yet it may not matter; the Divide still stands against us." There it was, his compliance to the ideals that had infected Alex's own debilitating hopelessness. "Our enemies gather outside...shadows of the Bear and Bull. They will have found their way in, just as you did. It was always my intention - in case I could not kill you - that the Marked Men would flood this place, cut off your escape. If we cannot prevent what comes, then let us make our stand here. Two Couriers, together, at the Divide."

"My friends can help." So where are they Ulysses? The moment teetered on a knife-edge, his skin rolled with the idea of hope coating his senses.

"They cannot." The moment held for too long, "They are underfed, weak, and without with our honed edge. You can secure your other friend in those cages you see there, on the far right flank." Alex took Boone up, slung him over his shoulder like he had before with corpses, he recalled tossing one of those burned legionary's he ambushed a precipice into the crater below which teemed with the raw flesh, an act of anger.

The door receded as Ulysses' busied himself with the proposed defense, inside he found them; all of them alive but unwell.

They'd been separated in maintenance rooms that had their locks disabled from the inside, Cassidy first, sleeping with a busted jaw - Arcade next, more fear than bruising - the rotted old ghoul who was cut but unfazed - and then their respite, the outlook of all their warring that made them look foolish, evil.

"Okay, I'd give you a hug, but I'm afraid of stubbing my toe." Alex could imagine the grin, cheek-to-cheek, irrepressible, "Give a girl a hand?"

"Only because I kept you waiting." Alex probed in the dark, stubbed his own toe before he found her smooth digits, he pulled her up with enough zeal to make her squeal.

"Asshole." She placed a hand on his chest to steady herself, Alex could smell her through the days, "Where you washing in here? While the madman plots your doom?" She chuckled,. "A girl always has to feel her best, and I managed to get rid of my unmentionable needs with some craftsmanship."

"Thanks for the vital information...hole dweller." Alex relaxed like he always did with her, felt her lips briefly graze his rough jaw in a peck, her breath danced across his neck. "I'm a regular honest to god genius with that stuff and I like you to know it." Alex shook - attempted to shake off the sudden heat, "Well come on then, you can help us bump a few dozen cannibalistic bad asses."

"Hmmm...I wonder if they'll answer to a polite but firm telling off?"

Playful, in the face of all the masses strength of the Divide. He imagined she'd infuriated Ulysses's with her easy attitude.

"Death, I need to hide Boone, hide you all in-fact."

"Those creeps coming back?" Raul was rolling his hand across the pink skin over his neck, pained it looked like, they had no breathers.

"Why hide us? Boone's out, but they'll kill us all if we don't fight." That was Cass and her bruised ego speaking, through that swollen jaw.

"If we kill them all, you'll all be alive."

"Are we all suddenly damsels in distress like this little drip?" Cassidy bumped Veronica with her hip, hands on the hips, angry gaze fixed on him. These people were ridiculous at times.

"Craig's out for the night at any rate." Arcade told him, unhappily, "You people and your guns -"

"Are the only thing that's gonna save you now." Alex finished, calculating again.

"Arcade and Veronica stay with Boone." He ordered, he told himself at least half of it was for their benefit and not his, Arcade wasn't quite as adorable as Veronica, "If you two want to show me why I keep you along, you can pick up some guns."

"What about the lunatic?" Arcade asked.

"He's with us now." Even the girl gave him a look at that, really? "You're going to trust him?"

"I'm going to let him help us not be slaughtered...We can't afford to be picky here."

"Fine, but I'm billing him for my good hood." Veronica stuck her tongue out, began to pester Arcade like a bloatfly. It drove point the home for Alex; these people were his humanity, all he could think about was not letting this be taken from him, not when he'd fought so hard for it.

"Try not to die." Arcade offered before they began to work out how to seal themselves in again.

"He's an ingrate boss." Raul said, now they were back to the stained tomb of Ulysses' construction, when they died - civilization died.

The four of them against a horde.

Ulysses approached them, silently save for the hiss of his breather. "This way for the weapons." He led them to the middle point of their old-world Alamo, where a weapon cache of considerable size remained.

"I think we might just be alright." Raul mentioned as he began to run his way through the differing weapons, here came the adrenaline.

"We need to settle these missiles Ulysses." Alex mentioned it as if it was an afterthought.

"You're bot can reprogram the launch, but what is you're target?" Alex immediately dismissed the temptation of punishing Colorado, he was better than the stupidity of man.

"Disable them. Bury this place." The bot chirped, breezed its way for the command console.

"Load up all the explosive munitions, wait for the detonators to do their work." Ulysses blended into their ranks seamlessly, cared for nothing like Cassidy's irate glare.

They did as they were told, everything was loaded: pistols laid out in the tight gully's, machine guns and assault rifles were held on both sides of their positions that branched over two wings of their defensible shielding, nothing more than two long pieces of sheet metal, they had auto loading grenade launchers and Boone's LSAR rifle, the bozar, a few grenades and charges, the traps were already set.

The doors of the tomb were ripped open suddenly, torn through with an explosion that cast the sickness of throaty residue around them. Cassidy and Raul were affect automatically, the Courier's were held by their breathers.

"For Kaisar!" Alex hollered, he caught the looks of them all, startled. The best time for a joke he found, just before the first of the burned men invaded their last stand.

Through the doors they came; catching their horrors with their faceless Lanius' masks, shapeless cloaks that were charged with aggression that channeled their inner hatreds. All of them were shaped in light drinking black, scarlet reds, of both cloth and stripe. The weapons were there also, muzzle flashes clear in the yawning space, slapping around them with the fear of death in every round.

Ulysses' detonated his charge, half the room disappeared in a moment of shock inducing concussive force.

They all came to survey the gore that followed the charge. "That's gonna be a mess to clean up." Cass guessed.

"Death still hangs over us." Ulysses replied.

"If he serious?" Raul asked. A moment before his fears were answered by those howls.

Straight from the hatred of an anguished soul, on came the burned men; on they came bursting their automatic weapons, throwing their grenades, rushing at them in slants just for that chance to launch a perfect savage thrust that would separate a spinal column, perhaps a limb for a slow death.

Alex and Ulysses immediately relished the challenge, and where Raul and Cassidy kept themselves safe; the couriers became the forces that they were remembered for.

Bullets and bombs; Alex relished the brutal beauty of it all, his VATS system and his prey over eye accuracy system, his natural and now augmented neuro-motor system allowed him to move beyond his enemies own. Bullets caught him across his shoulder again, perhaps he moved that shade slower? The blast shards dug into his thighs, a knife glimpsed his cheek, Cassidy riddled the republican burned man that slashed him and showed no signs of reproach.

He found himself pushed back beyond their regional lines, shouting useless commands for the others to pull back. All the while Ulysses' was pushing his bots forward with high explosives clutched by their tool attachments. More explosions, Alex held his defender ready, playing dead then snapping up to drill more burned men that had attempted to overwhelm his position.

He heard the wheel of sentry bots at a distance, missiles and gatling lasers, screams and blood.

"We need to get out of here." How could he still sound so calm? Ulysses's was near him, covered himself with a riot shotgun held in hand, handy as always. "The deed is done. This place will bury itself."

"We need to get the girls!" Cass was close by, priming a grenade and tossing it across the room into the bloodzone.

"Fight west, use everything you have!" Alex led the charge, bozar in hand until it was dry, then it was time for his 45.

Every footstep with Veronica and Arcade exposed was something he could never repeat, drowned out by his excitable glands; Ulysses's held Boone over the shoulder with incredible strength.

The burned men had resorted to melee weapons, perhaps they wished for the sweeter more visceral kills? Alex felt the blade pass into his chest just as they burst through the emergency access elevator.

"Done." Ulysses did not sag, but Alex heard the finality in his throat.

"Ah...oh god..." Arcade was the first to notice the blade protruding from the Courier's chest, just up around where his lung would have been pierced; through his left pectoral muscle.

"That's going to be a bit of a problem." He had his back to the back of the elevator, all the implants that he'd collected like a hobby failing him now, save to hold him aloft.

"Alex..." Veronica held him to one side as they ascended, Cassidy looked to him with sudden forlornness.

"You need to sit down." Alex shook it off, "We're nearly at the top." "Sit down or you'll fall down." The Courier passed Arcade an annoyed glance.

"Let's just wait until we get to the top and then I'll fall over."

They reached the ascent just as the world shattered below them, rolling with flames and fires, casting up towards them that drove them out onto the arid faceless rock face that greeted them.

It was the remaining poison of the Divide, a vast emptiness that held only the burned men.

A lot less burned men Alex reminded him with amusement.

"Bloody beautiful in it's madness, what do you say Ulysses?" The two men sat on a crestfallen rock, Alex with his knife; Ulysses with three bullet wounds that had struck across his back as they retreated.

Veronica and Cassidy scrambled through the storerooms that were adjacent to the temple yet shut off, Arcade looked over Craig as he realized there was little he could do for the two men until he received additional supplies, their blood was effectively frozen.

"You find beauty in bloody sands Courier?" The Courier responded, not Alex.

"I'm not a coward, and I am a man." the Courier shrugged. "That makes me an animal. All I can hope for is that in ten generations times men like me will be extinct, maybe then our race can be happy." Veronica and Cass appeared again with medical gear in hand.

A deep feeling of shock seemed to cross over the little zealot of House's description as she came close again to the pair.

"You better not die." She was at her innocent best, face dropped, the basic sweetness of her nature betrayed by the way her eyes welled up. He appreciated her oval features; her pert chin, the little nose she wiggled when she was trying to be daring.

He couldn't help his smile, now this was madness. Here he was stilted up beside his so thought mortal enemy, watching Arcade and Cass argue over how to stop the knife bulging out of his chest from killing him at the removal.

"I tend not to die." She came forward and gently cradled him, infecting his now staggering lungs, the balances of his mind thrown off by her pheromones-again.

"If you don't you're coming with me." She tugged his shoulder fiercer, why mention the bullets?

"Where too?"

"The Tops, and then the Gammorah, and maybe the Ultra-Luxe if we get really desperate." She stepped back as Arcade was due to begin.

"We're going to get you a lot of chips, a lot of laid and then a lot of weird meat." Alex winked at her.

"After this Courier we'll talk about this new world of yours." Ulysses determined it with the slight command in his voice, he was unstoppable; un-repressible-just what Alex needed in a dangerous ally.

It's going to be a long walk home.


	3. Big

"You know you're not a very good warrior man you know." Alex was told this by the girl laying flat down on her back, sucking in breath, who'd just fallen from an overhanging bar in a mess of limbs. "A big fat D for your bucko, you should be ashamed of yourself." He approached the flattened scribe and prodded her side with his foot.

"You're tenderised." The tip of his foot brought her to theatrical convulsions, "Abuse! In the workplace...what's the unions like here?" She rolled away so her back met one of the scored walls that made up House's demonstration area that he'd turned into a tactical training area.

"Surprisingly not great." Alex picked up water from a nearby halfstand and felt the heat inside, he smiled and offered some to Veronica, "Thanks, I'm parched...where's my lemon slice? No ice cubes?" Alex kept his smile, winked.

"Don't you dare!" She stopped the protest as he approached, resorted to a mewling whimper. His grin got wider as he doused her head with comical loving attention.

She could guess he might just be a little annoyed that she wasn't taking his drills seriously, why couldn't he understand she couldn't do one pull-up and then fire a weapon let alone five? Paladin Witley had cited her enough times to use up a scrapbook for 'under-par' performance.

"Why do you want me to use these stupid weapons anyway? Those legion assholes use swords!" Veronica winced as she pulled herself up into a sitting position, swept back her wetted hair, he was a jerk as well when she really thought about it, "I'll be wearing power armour, this is pretty much a no-brainer."

Alex smiled, appreciating the flawed logic and dopey laze she usually reserved for when he tried to get her towards anything resembling a soldier, it would have worked better if she hadn't shown him exactly what she was capable off when she was determined for it; not her expertise in picking apart all the old world tech he managed to loot or salvage, he was thinking of how skilled she was in breaking men down with just her fists and feet.

"The legion won't be easy pickings at the Dam, it'll be more Nipton than Novac." He definitely did know about the legion, she would give him that at least, "They'll probably be smart, well - smarter than usual. I'm guessing their few waves will be saboteurs and distraction tactics, but there going to come hard, I've heard there smelting massive shield walls in some plant near Drywells, there going to use it to cover their first assault, with a lot of covering fire. This won't be some folksy melee from yonder deal" Veronica got up and chanced her way towards the exit to his little fetish pit, the guy was crazy for the training nonsense.

"I really don't see your problem here, legion shows up - NCR show up and bam," Veronica clapped her hands together as she danced out of his pit, followed by his glare, "Then you get to swoop in and get your shiny brass medal from Oliver, that is if you're not planning on having House toss him over the side once you spoil their party." The Courier smiled, that big wolfish grin of his.

"If Oliver finds himself flailing over the side of the Dam he'd probably have tripped and fell himself, that guy- " Alex shook his head, god he hated the republic, promotion by way of dinner parties and political movements, it was madness, "Is as much of a general as I am a cockatoo, What's a cockatoo? Hell if I know; but it still makes more sense than that bloated feedbag." Veronica whistled, clearly impressed.

"Gee, I sure don't care for that sort of talk against our commander-and-cheat," Keep him talking, that usually worked with the amateur dramatist she called boss. "You don't think his idea of slugging it out in the middle of the day with a bunch of pain junkies isn't just the cleverest thing?" His smile turned thin.

"A lot of young boys and girls are going to get gutted because of that guy, it's a crime in itself." He looked over her, propped against a tool bench with a bottle of water in hand, sweaty faced, lazily downing the contents, sending him a casual wink while wearing her nearly always there grin, the distraction helped unsettle him for a moment, "-I'll be glad to let the republic boys toss him over the side themselves if they feel the need."

"And you really think they won't be mad you ya know...kinda stole the Dam from under their feet?"

"Not after I cut the legions throat, no." It was he imagined, a popular idea that the republic might just not take what he was going to sell them, if he was the one selling them it, yet to be determined by the power upstairs. "They'll have just fought the bloodiest battle in the post-war world, I doubt they'll be up for another fight once they figure out I've got a gun at their balls, bellies and brains." She winced at her crudeness, "Now what have I told you about that mouth mister?"

"It's liable to get me killed, and it isn't nice at the table - yes yes I get it." He realised that she might just be edging towards something, was she trying to get towards the whole hanging mess that House's agreement to his side of their bargain was going to bring?

"It might just get you with a lot of blood on yours hands," Veronica looked him over, yes, he wasn't the Courier now, definitely the charming, easy on the eye easy on the heart Alex. "I mean, do you really think the republic will take this lying down? Or that Boone or Cass won't have anything to say once they realise what you and House are cooking up? I love the idea of screwing over those republic jerks, but I mean this is just going too far..." He chuckled at that, she liked to think it wasn't a derisory laugh either.

"That's exactly what's so good about it, that's what Oliver or Moore doesn't or won't see. They think it's a sacrilege to even think about double crossing their precious republic, the think their untouchable." He relished when he could see the look on Moore's face if and when he pulled the rope tight around their throats, let that hard ass 'only the result matters' bitch see what he was really capable off. "I'm going to take that pompous attitude and wrap it around their fucking necks, let them see what it's like to become just numbers and obstructions."

Veronica winced slightly at his overt cruelness again, she'd heard Elijah once too often fulminate about the republic in that same tone, "What about Cass and Boone?" What about Arcade for that matter, and her? Wasn't she going to have to be even a little worried given House's intention towards her own band of misfits before?

"Boone has no loyalty left to the republic, that left him the day one of their finest citizens sold his wife like a dog." She couldn't imagine that, the way someone must be changed by having their love stolen from them, and the Courier was the one to give the sniper his only respite in life. "Cassidy is a pragmatist at heart, she isn't going to give her life trying to go up against House." House was the problem, Alex wasn't stupid, the Courier was downright sadistically brilliant, she couldn't understand why he didn't see House for the real evil genius he was, the guy could make up a good villain for a Gronak comic!

"And what if a few thousand republic soldiers decide to give up there lives?" Alex stalled at the question, gave her that cold dead stare he coated himself in when something truly unpleasant came up around them.

"Then they'll regret it." He knew he must have seemed like a monster then, but what did it matter? They weren't talking about the usual love and life and all things nice, they actually had a chance at working out this hellhole they were stuck in, nicely in line with the republics death keel.

"So you'll just put them all to death? That's awful nice of you." Veronica looked him over, the bandages and the bruised skin, rolled over his sweat stained white shirt, the body armour he'd taken - been given by Joshua Graham in Utah, he was darkly handsome, but if you weren't looking to get under his cloths and into his skin, you could definitely see the subtle undertone of malice in his look, not as stark as Graham...but still.

He had helped her so much, he'd put himself up against House just so that her family could continue being jerks to anyone they came across, he'd helped so many people in the rotting city around them and helped murder all the men who wanted to lash everyone from here to California to a cross, but he was still so cold.

"You know you never really told me about your family." She mentioned it when he got too cleaning up for the day, she probably unsettled him, why else would he shut his yapper after all?

"They where all deadbeats in the traditional Vegas sense," He answered it casually, no point digging up things he'd long since stopped thinking about. "Save my own parents. The rest of them? Animals. It's a shame I had to come from their same gene pool." That was honest of him at least, he didn't care what people thought, he could remember the moment he lost his innocence, sucked up into a mushroom cloud pumped out by his own indebted family.

"Wow, you're really a well adjusted guy, you know that?" She didn't like thinking about her own parents, or any of her not so filled family, but she definitely wouldn't have slandered them.

"What made you...dislike them so much?" The Courier snorted.

"We weren't tribals, sort of like a semi-civilised town, whatever civilised means anyway. We got into a fight over a fresh water cache with another town...it was a massive fight, it was the first time I got my hands dirty," He could remember it vividly, remembered seeing his uncle Smith beating a guy to death in what would have been seconds, it was a highlight around the campfire; four punches, a headbutt, two knees directly into his mouth, and enough follow up kicks that left him pooling with blood. He'd finished it by running his knife across the guys throat. "It ended up in a two sided bloodbath. My best friend got his hands on a nuclear weapon...put it on a train as a tribute to the their working rail system, it was their main thing you see. Well, it ended up that they went up in a big plume of smoke, most of our little stain was dead or dying, a nightmare."

Silence was the only answer she could give to that, what do you say to that?

"Look, don't worry about it." He brushed her off, no need for sympathy, what sort of person pumped out their own nonsense so that someone else could belittle them with pity, "The only thing that sort of crap does is remind me of something that might just be a little bit important."

"What's that?"

"That people shouldn't have to gut each other over things like water." There he was, the real big softy Alex that drove the Courier to murder and slaughter with severe intent.

All of those bandages and padding was just paper over the cracks for him, he was broken, and she hated the world for it.

"I kind of know what you mean." She mentioned it quietly, never liked talking about it, she never liked talking about anything real. "My parents died at Helios One, imagine that? Your parents dying for something that doesn't even matter anymore." She hoped it balanced him, kept him on the ground while his fate was decided in House's matrixes up in the wizards tower.

"Billions of people have died, if you die serving a cause you believe in? Well, it's better than most deaths." He offered that up as a sweetener she thought, unlike him, gee was she special. "Does it count if it was a stupid ideal?" She was more bitter than she should have been, annoyed at how they always turned towards death, why did they have to be here now? In this nightmare world with her best-friend who was turned into a teetering lunatic by it.

"Most ideals are stupid, people do enjoy lying to themselves." There he was, the Courier, the monster. God she hated the Courier, why couldn't he always be Alex?

If he went with House, if he got to his side then he'd always be the Courier forever.

She was going to say something, demand - futilely that he leave with her right now so that they go and overlook some obscure tech maybe, something that wouldn't changes things a single iota.

"Mr Sennser, would you come to the penthouse?" There it was, the dull monotone that Veronica would imagine couldn't have any mirth in it if House had just found out Caesar had a broken finger and Kimball had a broken asshole.

"I'm going to have to see what House wants, can you get the two republic misfits down here?" She looked at him strangely, that was to say almost - almost tearfully.

"I really don't want this to happen." She said it quietly, why was she so forlorn all of a sudden? "I don't want you to go up there and listen to that snake, I don't want you to try and give the republic a bum hand, just for those assholes throw away all their poor citizens lives just so that they can have a bigger cut." It was rushed, unlike her, Veronica wasn't a frightful townie who buttoned up at the slightest chance of danger.

"What's wrong?" He didn't understand it.

"This is going to end in blood, serious blood, even if I was okay with the Dam...yeah fine, but if you and House try to screw the republic," She shook her head, visibly animated in her worry, "You might have just met the thing that's as stubborn as you." He really didn't know what to say, the idea of all this talk - coated in emotion and pain, it unnerved him.

"I'll...I'm sorry." He stopped himself, he looked over her, he felt all the useless emotions that raged through him. "I'll do what I can, just don't get down. I'll make sure we don't have to have a Republic-Vegas war, you know how clean I like things." He tried to be clever about it, but even then, he remembered Novac; all those dead legion men, he had half a mind at the time of lashing them up onto crosses just for the mad humour at the time.

It wouldn't end with a tight bow and knot, she saw him walk heavily in his battered stride and realised he didn't even think that, how could he? He was the Courier after all, the merchant of death, an easy smile and an easy gun.

She was left there for a long time, kicking up a storm in her own head as she realised just how useless she was, how useless the brotherhood had become. The fate of the world lay here with them and all the power armour and laser rifles.

She thought about the 'zapper' she made, something she'd devised to maybe, just maybe temporarily overwhelm House's guard just for Alex, incase he needed it. But he was the calculator, the Courier didn't make a bad deal, she bit her lip and hoped for blood as she thought it, he wasn't a monster.

"Hey there skinny, where's the brooding hero type?" It was Cassidy with Boone skulking in behind, Raul would be there in five, 'picking off some annoying flesh' she'd said, crass Cass - Arcade was off about they knew, summoning up his remnant friends for their last big hurrah.

"Up talking to his master." She said it with scant anger, she felt more deflated than anything.

"So we're going?" Boone looked awful, wrapped up like Alex but with less grace, always grimacing.

"I don't know where we're going." She hated her whining voice, but it felt like that last time she'd felt so down, Elijah and Christine, the father taking away her first love a second time.

"It'll be the Dam." Boone was decided, "He won't miss a chance to fuck with the legion." Veronica agreed with Cass's sentiment, because it was the truest thing she could say.

"You know, if your so worried there drip, why not calm the man down a little." The republic loud mouth settled down beside her while Boone took himself to the range, "Settle him down?" Cass smiled at her innocence, laughed.

"You know exactly what I mean, our dear leader would be settled down if you took off those ratty robes and showed him a good time." She was so vulgar, it made Veronica blush, looked away - she was right as well, but it hadn't been talked about, it was so awkward.

"I'm not into guys." Cass snorted.

"Alex isn't a regular guy, he's a force of nature. Fucking him would be like fucking the wind...you know you've never really tried it?" She shook her head, how did she always bring it to sex? "No, but I know, it isn't just something you switch on or off, I know I am." The republic _bitch _snorted again.

"He really cares about you, he appreciates what you are, how sweet and truly unique you are girly - too bad you'll never be able to oblige him" It was a cutting, vulgar remark yet again.

"I know." She didn't want to talk about this, not now.

"I'm going to go watch Boone blast imaginary legion, think about it drip." She gave her that annoying hip bump and then swaggered off behind Boone into Alex's little den, the powder and boom of the shots kept them all distracted she imagined until he returned.

Craig stopped shooting the moment he heard the shrill scream of the elevator, all the practise in world wouldn't stop his mind from running, all of the Mojave was rolling across it.

Alex entered the room at a pace, limp subdued, a clear danger to anyone standing against him.

He wasn't stupid, neither was the republic girl beside him who always had a glare or fickle biting remark whenever the easterner put down their homeland.

"The Legion assault is imminent, their rolling their entire force across the Colorado, Oliver's concentrated most of his force at the Dam, Forlorn hope and Novac are due to be overrun." Craig didn't know how he felt about that, he hated the idea of legion being anywhere but downwind, but Novac was where his life had ended.

What are you going to do to the republic? That was the question he wanted to ask...but Novac, the time when the legion came and they met them together rather than the republic, in Bittersprings when they met them again to stop them, the Courier had earned his loyalty - the NCR had taken advantage of it.

"So what's the plan?" Cassidy asked the question, he heard the slyness hidden inside it.

"We're going to the El Dorado sub-station, we need to put the last chip in place, we'll be sending most of the power towards a certain node in the Hoover Dam." What was he talking about?

"What about the Dam? The legion?" He got there before Cassidy, why where they playing House's game?

"I've already organised our equipment, everything here save for a few speciality items is going to be loaded up and directed towards the Dam," He directed them to the rolling of the secondary elevator rolling from the service point, "I've organised mercenary companies to go south, heavy weapons for Forlorn Hope; grenade launchers and sentry bots, and I'm going to make sure Cottonwood Cove gets a visit from the old lady in the water." From the elevator came two heavy lift bots that Alex had taken from the old construction sector of the city, Boone remembered that he and Alex had spent a long day placing all their weapons into crates with enough ammo to field a squad three times their size.

"So what are we doing at this substation? Why not go straight to the Dam?" Veronica asked a question that she thought she might know the answer too, but she needed to see was Craig's response, Cass's take on his new plan.

"We're going to reroute the power there, it'll give House access to a reserve army that's situated under Caesar's camp." She couldn't have imagined that Boone would have shouted out in surprise, but his tame response left her wondering just what he was thinking up in his mind.

"House has an army right under Caesar's nose? and he hasn't used it already?" That conniving old bastard.

"Warfare isn't about slugging it out face to face, it's about deception for maximum slaughter." The Courier didn't care about the morality of not having used it before now, they had too good a chance to end the legion there and then. "Caesar will commit his forces across the Dam, they'll push across most likely and stretch themselves out. That's what we want, because when we bomb half of them to hell the other half will be ripe for the plucking, no retreat this time - no third battle for the Hoover Dam."

"You really think this will work?" Cassidy asked. The end of the legion? She doubted it, people like that tended to stay around long enough to make sure there enemies died with them.

"It'll be bloody, but it'll be an end one way or another. We'll be facing them head on, down in the Dam where there going to try and do damage," This was important now, the republic weren't good enough to do the job, they thought they could saturate the legion by drawing them on, idiots. "We'll have riot shotguns, shock batons, some liquid armour that they've cooked up in the Big Empty, everything to create maximum carnage. This is going to be filthy - get your minds right, there isn't no hundred yard bluff, you'll be swimming in it, sound good?"

"Hoo fucking Ra." Craig snarled it or just about, time to finish this.

"I want you all to know that I'm planning on rolling Oliver over, I'm not with the republic on this." He stalled to catch their eyes, he had to have them behind him. "We won't be laying a finger on one NCR man, I'm going to make sure they know there fucked, but I want you to know that if Oliver or Moore trys to throw there mens lives away then they'll be dealt with on the spot."

"Treason then?" Cassidy asked. Alex snorted.

"You see any two headed bears flying around here? I didn't get us here just to hand this place over to Kimball and his scumbag friends, this is the city where civilisation starts, not where it ends like the last trial run."

"You can dress it up whatever way you want, you're making a run for dictator along with your egomaniac boss upstairs." She wouldn't go along with this, just for House to have all the reward? "What about all the soldiers who gave their life? Who are about to give their life?"

"I didn't bring them here, and tell me, what exactly will they be getting for winning the Dam: A big pat on the back, maybe a medal if they can be bothered smelting enough, or is it more likely they'll be stuffed up in caravans and told to get the fuck home so that they can do die in more rich mens wars?" He wouldn't listen to her weak patriotic bullshit, he was sick of the republic, he was glad to help it die.

He made for the door, he'd left enough kit for them to get past the guards at the station, uniforms and mantles that would give them the advantage they needed.

"Everyone here knows what I'm about to do, if you want to go play the hero then go give Oliver a hand while he sends thousands of people into the meat grinder," Alex slung up his bag, inside his stomach rolled - this was it, no more fencing with Caesar, he'd finally have the chance to put his blade to the old bastards throat.

"It's decision time folks, do you wanna go taddle on me to Oliver and let Caesar walk through us to California, or do you wanna go fuck Caesar where he lays his wrinkled old head?"


	4. Bells and Balls

Arcade rolled with the force of the blow – explosive in nature, his suit registered the impact with a red klaxon screaming across his right optic while he flailed.

Three long flights from the side-bar of a Hoover Dam maintenance facility, a death slam for anyone not sheathed in the single best example of technical brilliance for an infantry man in the service of the comically vindictive Enclave.

He crashed onto a thick heap of machinery, smashing it with the combined velocity and weight of his power suit, sent there by some yahoo legionary who'd most likely killed himself with the concussive blast.

The room, winding and endlessly expansive within the barrens of the wasteland was filled with warring parties of god and government, smoke and tears filled the place, bullets crackled and split and chipped the ancient foundations of the beacon.

Save the Dam!

That was what was being hollered all around the roof of the place, through the cloistered hallways and bleeding lower levels, the radio waves and common cries called for it.

Save the machinery more like, the utility that allowed the republican royalty to quiet their disgruntled masses.

House needed the same rigorous controls to pacify them also; the autocratic father of control knew this more than anyone.

After all, he'd been the one to watch civilization fall into the age of rock and bone; they were all, relative minnows to the man in this field.

He'd came down to find the man responsible for House's defense, in the midst of the republican chaos.

"They say they're a republic…" Alex had snorted that time, just after they'd finished dragging themselves away from ambassador Crocker's office, "…But they tend to act like those other guys…you know – the savages?"

Bodies were everywhere, the lines had broken and ammunition was almost non-existent. By now the legion should have broken against the massed counter assault of the republic army, but that moment had not occurred.

The legion had deployed exactly as Alex had mused, massive smelted shields covered by old world tech that required nothing beyond a blind sighting of the target required to hit.

Entire companies of republic soldiers had been decimated, the Dam was bleeding and it looked precariously close that Caesar's savants would overrun civilization.

Then the Old Lady in the Sky had occurred, and Caesar's had been broken for what was then a second assault, and that had been met by the Enclave and their final payments to civilization.

Screeching lasers and hot lead was all they could offer now, a pale imitation of what they once were.

Arcade pulled himself up and free of the metaled mess, attempted to pull free his plasma defender that he'd opted for in lieu of a heavier slaughter weapon.

He wasn't here to do more beyond attempt to salvage a situation brought upon them all by the wrongheaded generals and dictators, the legion were near him, fixated on his bloated figure as they lanced him with spears rippers and knives.

It was unresponsive, bent in by the impact to the magnetic holster that the suit provided for, damn.

Arcade batted them away instead, winced and fought against people who couldn't match his strength or durability.

These men would have killed him under any other environment, but here he was again, trading a life off someone else's strengths.

The hope was always there for him that he could finally marshal enough power to assert himself the way he wanted to, for those people that he cared about.

Everyone, he cared about everyone.

Even the bloodthirsty idiot who attempted a brutal overhand chop that cracked against his motored helmet – a push of his augmented arm and the brute was sprawling, but followed by ten more behind, twenty more on the catwalks and slip-corridors.

This was a key room to the Dam's functions, rolling the power from the bare capturing ducks of the turbines and then onto the surging power distributors that would allow those controls to be held in the hand of whoever controlled it.

If they didn't kill these men off soon, allow it to wax fierce enough to drive the legion off towards the less critical chaos swallowed corridors and death infested holdouts…then the Dam would be useless, and all of them together would be sent back into the barbaric times again.

Where was Alex? The thought drove him mad in the chaos, all he could see was the grapple of men both desperate and driven, the frightened republic conscripts drawn against the merciless demagogue-worshiping fanatics of the legion.

Then there were more explosives, in the hands of a legionary who pulled the pin on some mad concoction of a detonator and dull plastic.

It would have hurt him, Arcade realized that it would have and did not when a shock sent the spread of the mans brains whipping out of his skull into the wall behind him, the explosion took another two legion men that were seeping blood out onto the floor beside him.

That same gun slammed against five other legionary's in quick succession, Arcade's hearing wasn't impaired like the others would be, the suit provided for that.

It was such a distinctive sound: Boom boom, and then boom BOOM.

The twisted to catch the sight of a legion man with a weapon in hand attempting to pierce his back and then – snap! Something landed hard and heavy on his head, the impact had broken his neck.

A jumble of limbs was rolling near him, there was a swing of blackness and then he was facing down a black-visored death mask, artificially etched on with some white outlining to a faux face.

The face grunted, reloaded the long barreled revolver he'd unloaded, and Arcade was sure there was a smile beneath the grimness.

"They've broken the lines," Arcade said. "We need to shut off the controls to this room-"

"They've been sucked in and destroyed," Alex returned. "I've sent Cass with a few mercenary's we picked up through another route, they are freshly armed. The Scribe and Sgt. Baker are watching the two entry points on our side And-" He pointed upwards.

A pair of Mr. Gutsy's were spewing plasma and flame from their hardened cases, retrieved and restored by Veronica from a vertibird crash they had discovered once upon time during a salvaging expedition in the legion infested southern straits of the Mojave.

Arcade looked over the man; not his face or even any exposed skin, instead he was scrutinizing the hardened features of one of the many experimental stealth suit that he'd picked up from his secret old world repository.

He'd brought it back to be soaked in blood, wasn't it what they all did? The new _visionaries _of their world were too much like the old.

Yet again the man was right however, his application towards violence included deduction that while not overawing was certainly consistent.

Cass and a bloodied pair of mercenaries had arrived through the legions main access point, a breach in the upraised maintenance walkways that he'd been tossed from.

She held up a curved finger and thumb conjoined at the tips: Danger over.

The space around them was a mess of blood and bodies, limbs and pieces were strewn about in the crimson slicks that intermingled with the hacking smoke to create an atmosphere of truly despondent witnessing.

Legion men were still alive in little drips, just like the republic's own, but they'd had their own numbers choked out by Cassidy's interdiction.

The republican soldiers didn't waste time in healing their own men, and when they ran down in their medical wares and exhausted their pity they turned to their own mad sadism.

Alex didn't bat an eye under his visor as the republic men began scrounging up bullets to put the legionary's against the wall – or floor more accurately – they were wounded for the most and couldn't rise, most if not all had fought until dead or disabled.

"Let's get going, I've assembled a securitron sortie to breach legion lines," Alex holstered his heavy revolver, began checking his magazines and autoloaders that still remained across his thighs and chest packs.

"What about this?" Arcade gestured towards the scene about to play out, summary executions without trial.

Alex turned his head, shrugged.

"Even that suit of yours wouldn't stop you getting eaten alive by these men," The Courier was there, the viper. "They came here to destroy us, they'll pay the price for the attempt."

Arcade snapped at his arm and was momentarily afraid he might have hurt him.

"This is murder!" He said loud enough for heads to turn, suspect eyes following the slight upset.

"This is war." The Courier returned, "Blood, shit, piss and glory. They'll be a drop in the ocean by the end of the day."

Alex hollered up to Cassidy, finger rolling in a twist – It's time to wind this up.

Arcade went to follow but then took one last fleeting look at the scenes – studying the pain in the faces of the persecutors and victims alike of this new injustice, the knives and pistols and rifles being loaded with shaky hands to deliver supposed justice.

They hadn't changed from the days of the killing power of rock and bone, the weapons were merely gaining back ascendency in ingenuity, but man's ruthless heart was there again.

They made their way through the listing interior of the Dam, stepping over bodies that bore the sign of the bear and bull alike, the floor was coated in the same slickness that affected the dusty sodden walls, slick crimsons.

"We're going up top to link with your Enclave buddies," Alex told him over the shoulder, calm as a grave. "I'm going to send our securitron assault straight at the legion, I think Caesar will have a few high explosive squads ready for this pseudo-final assault."

"What is the real attack then?" Pseudo? Feints, this man was still a mystery, the veil was there always.

"I flick a switch up ahead and you'll soon be finding out, as well as Caesar and all his horrific little butchers." The statement left them to a silence save for the republic men checking dead comrades and enemies, the sappers had been repulsed for now it seemed.

They emerged upwards into the higher levels and found Alex's required switch, a simple little block of tubed composite plastic that held a simple pronounced flicker.

"There's a single piece of simplistic machinery that holds the future Arcade." Alex introduced it with all the imperial overtones that he could muster, "Go ahead, and flick the switch that'll drive these beasts into myth."

The Courier knew what he was doing, Arcade realized it as well, tempting him with such an offer.

His chance to bury Edward Sallow under his own hatred.

It spoke of the fight within him always, the justice he wanted meted out against the call for restraint, under the Followers guise of a better world.

He flicked the switch without preamble, it was time for him to take a stand, he'd promised as much.

"Let's do this." Alex said.

They traversed the Dam and were soon surfacing to the surface of the wasteland apex, Cassidy and the pair of mercenaries not cut down were following onto the narrow slit of the Dam, overrun not only by battle but billowing smoke warring against a dust storm that reduced most of their visions to near zero.

Only a few dozen meters across, the Dam had been suffocated by hundreds upon hundreds of men from both sides of the captivating divide, how long would the piles upon piles of pre-festering bodies be a feature here?

Arcade found it hard to keep himself concealed under the netting of the sidelines where they were hidden, the mercenary's and Cassidy reported that their weapons were almost dry, and that any serious action would be limited.

The boon of his cyclic visions granted by his suit allowed Arcade to peak his head up through the partial disguise of the overflow of the ecological onslaught.

He cast his vision across both entry points to the Dam, firstly to the legions access point; there he saw the shattered barricades of republican construction that had been entirely reduced to cinders and ash. Someone had taken the time to emplace the bull's head and swollen banners of Edward's bastardized versions from ancient Roman ilk, one had been set through the ruptured chest of a republic trooper who would have been the first man to fall against the legion.

Where were the legion forces? You could find them if you swung your gaze towards the command center of the Hoover Dam, it was a last grasp effort by the scout units and heavy troopers of the republic forces to hold off the rolling juggernaut he saw surging forward there.

"It looks like the legion has pushed back the republic too far," Alex said, peaking himself to allow Arcade the knowledge that the suit had more advancements that previously thought. "Look at all those bodies…Oliver's plan has been thrown back in the soldiers faces. They must be attempting a regroup at Boulder, but there won't be no explosive rebuke this time around."

"What do we do then? If we get in behind those legionary's then we can take dozen maybe a dozen or so, but when they turn…"

The Courier turned to him, spoke without hesitation. "We're going for the throat, no more chopping at the limbs. Arcade, contact Daisy and get us a pickup, we're going after Lanius."

"What about the legion, if they get back inside the Dam lower-"

"Moore already has a doctrine in place, everything will be shut up now." Moore was the soldier within the republic that Alex feared the most, a ruthless bitch he'd called her. "Caesar's thrown everything he has now, no more reserves beyond a few hundred men their main encampment who will be rearming and waiting to see how the republic reacts to their retreat."

Arcade contacted Daisy, asked them to come and sweep down again for wherever they were recharging their weapons and dated engines.

"We aren't going straight into the fort?" He asked.

The Courier shook his head, "It'll be too chancy, too many indoctrinated slaves under the eyes of their god. We need to deal with Lanius, and I expect he'll be marshaling up his men to burst through the final republican barriers to Vegas."

"So we're going into the belly of the beast eh?" One of the mercenary's, a rough cut that Arcade had never met before clicked his tongue.

"Think of the danger pay brother." The other mercenary returned. "How much do we get for Lanius's head on a spit?"

"A bad case of the shakes and a few thousand caps." The Courier returned smoothly.

"I know how I'll spend em." Cassidy added, and then the jovial backslapping talk of the alphas took over the brooding moments while they waited upon an exodus.

They air was caught up in the spin of the vertibird _Freedom's Escape _that settled just in front of them, precariously almost in the core of the Dam.

"Let's get moving!" Alex shouted, and then they were rushing across the tumultuous battleground free for the most of incitement by the one-way legion forces.

"House will have already unleashed his proxy force," The Courier told Arcade this out of a kindness, 'don't worry friend, I'll not be a complete heartless bastard today'.

Onboard the vtol they were soon in the air again, the mercenary men wasted ammunition behind them on startled legionary's who'd already heard of the strange old world craft that had decimated an entire swathe of their number.

But they were twisting another way, rolling and lurching towards a camp that Alex determined with a finger over the bird's limited mapping tech.

"This base we're going for is where the legions heir is going to be sharpening his sword, just off the old beaten track of the legion assault," The Courier pinpointed it with near accuracy from his Pip-Boy's rendition. "I want everything you primed and ready for the second fly over."

"Not the first?" Daisy, wearing a simple-almost comical old wives collection of lemon yellow dress with white blends of farmyard animals.

"He'll have slaves and prisoners nearby, I don't want to riddle people who've just been put through hell. Prep your rockets and lasers, we'll deploy after your first volley."

"A routine run and gun, I like it." Moreno was there, grinning under his deathmask.

They arrived over the relative calm of the legate's base, and Arcade was left attempting to peer out over Alex's shoulder as he scanned the area with his hawkish eyes.

"It looks like they're keeping the slaves and that in the tents-" Daisy banked hard suddenly and then powered on the engines, "They have fifty caliber's down there and two launchers, we've spooked them."

"Not to mention losing the element of surprise." Krieger added from the co-pilots seat.

"Put us down on one of those slopes near the camp," Alex ordered, and then turned to the group behind. "You two and Cass, find something high powered and get down on that ledge, I want crimson on crimson."

"Glad to be of service sir." The raggedy man beamed.

"Daisy, roll us towards another entry vector afterwards, we'll let those two soak up some attention."

"We're going hot?"

"Take out everything that is a threat to the boat," Alex said. "Then set us down after you have them scurrying like roaches."

"Shouldn't we be seeing the securitron strike on the Fort?" Arcade asked, unsettled.

"Soon enough," Alex promised. "When their rollers are fully utilized it'll be a hell of a light show." They were dropping off the men and then back in the air, spinning around another vector as Alex had called it – vector? And he was a simple tribal boy? Arcade had never believed it.

They heard the shots, returning heavy fire and then they were on the camp, everything was there to be picked off by the Vertibird's supreme violence.

"They've got slaves around their heavies!" Daisy shouted, leading Krieger and Alex to curse in unison.

Bullets slammed against their viewpoint leading their wavering pilot to pull off sharply, "I won't be murdering those poor souls down there!"

"Put us down near the entrance!" The Courier shouted in response, "We'll gut these bastards boot to face. I want you to swing by in a few minutes, no need to put us in risk though on the firing side."

They rolled down close to the base but around so much of a bend as to deter a direct strike when vulnerable, "Blow those doors for us when you get up!" It was The Courier's last order, and then they were off the vertibird.

Boots on the ground, Moreno was first of course, cycling his gatling laser with the sort of glee that would have frightened any other follower in any other situation.

"They're holed up like ticks, they want us to bring it on," Alex sounded conversational, looked meager against the power of the Enclave troopers around him, "Thank god we have some bona-fied American hero's for it."

"Hoorah," Johnston offered in response, himself wielding an extremely awkward grenade multi launcher, "We'll send these sadistic son's-a-bitches straight back to hell."

"Take their men in bands were you can, every piece of cover you find that isn't holding an innocent is blown to pieces," Alex ordered. "Judah, you take the precious shots, you others deal with the ones brave enough to fight head on."

"What about you, going to sit this one out eh?" Moreno asked.

The Courier chuckled, his camouflage system on his suit morphed his suit and face towards a pale blown sand shade.

"I'll be there, sure as this night's sky is going to be blood red and beautiful." Alex turned off as the vtol rose up to shatter the thickened gateway that barred them from the camp.

He disappeared, leaving the old remnants of the government there to enact whatever perverse rightness they could manage.

"You okay Gannon." Krieger asked, formal but with that caring undertone that infected so much of the man's words.

"I'm ready." He returned, and then he managed to free his defender that he'd been itching over since they'd been picked up.

Krieger gestured for them to move forward, and Arcade knew through his own suit that the inbuilt 'bite and blink' controls had been reduced to almost uselessness by time.

"Moreno, Johnson, take the lead and the punishment. Clear sights for both of you, I don't want any of these poor sods buying something they didn't pay for."

"Affirmative." Johnson returned.

"Let's get this going." Moreno growled.

The vertibird swung by a then loosed a barrage of low intensity rockets onto the gateway, and then they were rushing forward at a half-step with the whine of the gatling laser and grenade launcher rolling towards devastation speed.

"Forward movements, heavy links," Moreno growled, and then the light show began.

Arcade was on the left flank, pistol in hand and waiting for range, Johnson Moreno and Krieger responded in kind, bullets slapped off his own visor while they advanced, nothing large enough so far for a worrying response.

Through the inflammation Arcade heard a devil of an explosion come from afar – turned and broke formation to see something towards a more impressive gathering of visuals occur. The sound was deafening even with their sound diminishing technologies.

"Looks like the boy was right! Go go go!" Johnson urged them on, but was struck by one of the heavy weapons that they'd came into sight off.

"Krieger do it or I will!" Moreno screamed, and then their leader was using his high-powered rifle to pick off specific figures in the defenders popping up against them from their metaled barricades and dug in shelters.

Then they saw fire from another place, Cassidy and her minions were over the exposed ledge and picking off legionaries from a near flank, "Mix up their firing lines, good job boys!" They were urged on further.

A darkening sky was above, lit by Moreno's attentions that he saw cut through a trio of defending men too close for sense to be involved.

"Arcade, get in here!" He'd paused to reload his weapon; his shots had burnt through cover to pierce men, the worst of the dreaded Lanius's decimation guard.

He broke through the gateway, the firing in response intensified, his screen was very nearly cracking from one heavy caliber banging against it.

Arcade twisted to notice a watchtower that was desperately attempting to reload some long-range scattergun that had infected him with a panic a moment before.

Then he saw a flash of movement behind the man, a knife glint and then a corpse.

Arcade almost waved in thanks, and then there was something towards a rumble that rolled across their respective ground.

It was a full second of shaking, a rippling grumble that became a roar in the awareness of his mind.

"The fort is under attack! Caesar is attacked!" The call came from the innards of the camp, gongs and trumpets flared to add to the crescendo of madness.

"Drive them towards oblivion!" Moreno roared, and then they were pushing on, Alex skirting like a yao-guai at the limits of their vision, knife and revolver against their superb onslaught.

Arcade thought of how much momentum they held now, the knife had pierced Sallow's throat, and it was time to remake the world.

Blasts and flaring incendiaries rolled along their lines, Johnson was clipped in a vital joint and stalled, "We're too committed!" He shouted, "Take them now or die."

In the heart of Lanius's power Arcade was almost transfixed by the precipice of death they danced across, so much fire and yet they could respond further in kind, slaves and weakened prisoners had already began to huddle around the fringes.

Danger heightened Arcade's awareness, we've taken them all, what else could they have to throw against us?

Fires danced around them: no Lanius, and a broken camp, decimated legionary ranks lay around them.

They reached the foot of the Lanius's personnel tent, a piece of rich material that was struck out against the harsh reality of the camps other accommodations.

Then they were caught by something, a clink from the innards of the slit that came to drop around them.

Explosives? They'd already tried that, and they didn't have anything that would affect them-

Electromagnetic pulse grenades, they stiffened where they stood, weapons faltering to nothing.

How? It was what infected them all he was sure, while he was rooted there before the dais of depravity.

Arcade saw a man escape the tent, two captains of the legion appeared in all the regalia of a victorious legionary, even full-faced masks that were a metaled version of Alex's own liquid form.

Then it was Lanius, a full two heads taller than either man that braced his flanks, towering and glowering together, his armor golden and royal against the flowing crimson that swirled across his incredibly wide shoulders.

Looking down on them he thought, here is what these cretins would call a trump card, their conquering assassins who'd managed to fell the great legion beast.

They'd marched towards death, and he paid only a slight price of some thirty veterans that could be replaced with enough of the lash and vigor that he'd always prescribed.

"Which one of you is the Courier?" His voice rumbled towards the still figures of old world construct, he would be a roving force that they feared, cut down their petty king and then strangle the man-machine they called ruler of New Vegas quickly after.

Vermin, all of them!

They spoke not, perhaps they couldn't, or then fear probably encircled their weak minds, how they feared the predator when their vaunted technologies failed them.

"I don't think the Courier could be snared so easily." The voice spoke easily from just around them; Lanius stilled his face, no need to offer the man any sign of surprise.

His duo of failing captains pulled free their profligate weapons, no need to stand on ceremony at the eve of their triumph.

Searching and searching, they found nothing under the scrutiny of their master. Fear – they thought that they would be punished if they filed, and rightly so, perhaps he'd take their eyes as he had before for this failure and those before.

The Courier watched the three of them, perched upon the tents roof and thankful for it's sturdy build.

A breath – a movement too much and the man would turn to level him, it reminded him of the days when he wandered the eastern edges of the legions northwestern corridor, picking off feral beasts and legion men alike.

The Divide had held the same appeal, filled with so many apex predators as to make it a constant annihilation battle between them all.

Here was one such predator.

"Do you fear to face me!" Lanius roared, and he snapped out for attention and then ordered the pair to come and bear his blade to him.

He watched the stilled figures look on him with deadened eyes, he imagined what they would be thinking when they faced his blade of the east, if they imagined the great blade could rend their heads from armored shoulders.

Behind him there was a scratching, a rent in the fabric of the tent. Lanius swept the slip back and peered inside.

Bodies, drained men.

"Do you still skulk coward!" Lanius pulled free his blade from where he'd had it polished and then hung.

His two servile slaves were where he'd left them, but they could not tell them what they saw-both had long been blinded for their transgressions against him.

Shocked by the event Lanius kicked off a burner and allowed the tent to catch fire, no refuge beyond the scraping rocks.

He exited the camp and was immediately assaulted; dumb and clumsy the blow landed across his mask, and through whatever might of sight beyond eyes that had been granted to him Lanius reached out and snapped the neck of the man who assaulted him in a throttle.

It was a dirty profligate, stumbling down the hill in a shambling fall. He twisted his eyes around him. "Show yourself!" He snarled. There was the taste the power of the battle swirling around him.

Another filthy pair of faces was struck near him, caught as they attempted to rush for the weapons stilled in the hands of the hidden weaklings.

A striking pain caught him against his supporting knee, driving him down into an awkward crouch, a swing of his unbreakable fist was met by a sailing momentum, a glint of steel flashed by his mask and was only dinted by the agile slip of his neck.

He roared upwards and was chopping his blade before swinging it in an overhand slash that should have truncated the miniscule would be warrior.

Too far, he'd managed a flip that had taken him away from blade range.

Lanius sensed the bullet before it came – the blare of the pistol before it struck into his shoulder just in the slip of his armor. Lunging he swung again, this time a thigh-to-shoulder slice that was met by a vertical twist, hack, punch, he caught with the last – a frightful strike that sent the profligate-hero rolling into the dirt.

There was a chance of a quick death, even if it toiled his skin to find this creature a threat. Blade raised he plunged forward to skewer the snake: an offbeat heave from his arms sent the Courier away from his blade however, it plunged into the sand and the Courier struck upwards again.

Lanius saw something in his hand – heard it as it's shrilly exploded – a blinding flash accompanied the roaring in his ears, then there was suffering the sliver of pain that accompanied a blade meeting skin.

He heard the hiss of the Courier, "Strength…a tough hide…all of it's useless against a good old flashbang and a sense cancelling mask." Lanius roared and threw himself about wildly, another bite met his unarm, disabling his flank.

There was no other bite, silence met Lanius and then pressure escaped his body.

Looking up where Lanius could not, the Courier met the sight of the dreaded legion – crimson without crimson, but some fatigues as well, dusty tanned colors that betrayed the place of the poor republican troopers.

Alex stood there, pistol holstered, knife in hand with it poised to open Lanius under the mask and towards the man.

Facing him were around ten legion men, machetes in hand but lacking the overt crimsons, they looked like well-muscled slaves, but everything else about them screamed Caesarian sycophants.

What is this? He wondered, noting that the men seemed bare and useless save for the threat of holding two pairs of people between them, a duo of tear streaked soldiers and two other drab and weary looking slave girls, just young daughters if anything else.

"You can wait your turn scum!" He shouted, his voice artificially holding a melody of playfulness.

He caught the smile of one in response, a fox among the less graceful beasts.

"Slaves and wretched profligates," The grinning wolf said, "Are these not your favorite things my dear Courier Six?"

Alex imagined the man would have something of an idea towards his vices, the name was always apparent for those who'd faced the legion long enough: Vulpes Inculta. Spy – Murderer. He was addicted to the chaos that the legion inflicted on those that it saw as their inferiors, and the supposed supremacy of legion life.

"Release the legate and I will forgive these chattel for their baseness Courier. Or else you can take his life, and I will spend their blood, and never leave your cherished kingdom of sin!"

The Courier laughed, hollered in fact. "You think I'm afraid of you and your skulkers Vulpes? You had prey before me, how many times did I burn your pretty little hides after?"

"So you wish them to die?" Vulpes asked.

"How did you escape from the fort, I don't imagine you were allowed to waltz out the front gate?"

"I adjusted, I overcame your trap."

Alex ahhhhed. "And yet no living god with you? Is he dead then?" Vulpes bristled.

"Do not push me too far Courier," Vulpes warned with his lower tones, "I have neither the time nor the inclination for your vile words. Allow me to take the legate and I shall have my frumentarii remove themselves from your lands…for a time. Otherwise you can spill the Legate and then I shall drive you to madness with my hidden blades and poisons."

He knew all about the man's wiles, and what he could do not just a fully formed nation but also a flagging one.

The legate would destroy the legion in time, he'd known it himself if he did not have the words of many men who'd held the reins inside the cancer, only Sallow had held it in check.

The Courier nodded. "Send down half of your captives, I'll send up the Legate."

"Yes. A good businessman as your city would only breed. I suspect we shall see each other again. Enjoy your slaves Alex-" A roar spread from behind Alex, he saw the enclave craft and held up a hand to say no.

"Best hurry and go Legate." Alex witnessed the awe inspiring ferocity of the mans as he heaved to land a strike on him, but deceitful footwork and laughter drove the man insane until he was being dragged screaming away by six legionary's who used every ounce of strength they had to do so.

They would all be dead within the morning Alex knew, and so did Vulpes by the way he risked more of his men to secure his prize.

By the end of it they had found the tunnels where Vulpes had escaped, minus the two soldiers and two slaves that he had held with him.

There they remained for a little while, waiting while Daisy put down the vtol and began breaking off the remnants frozen suits, something made easier on the laughably geriatric soldiers by the arrival of two roving scout securitron's that immediately deferred to Alex's command.

It left them with the finality of the battle; thousands dead, the republic routed with the legion rapidly slipping through the cracks of the collapsed defensive _iron line _that had made up of the defense beyond the Dam, a victory in effect for anyone hoping to slip a blade between the republics ribs.

By the time Arcade had been removed he was visibly animated, not knowing whether to throw up or hug his old comrades.

"We need to get to the fort." Alex told them all firmly, putting off any celebration or even respite beyond rearming and taking more than a few breaths.

"We need to amscrae out of here young pup." Judah had replied, but he'd nodded all the same, they all knew this needed to be finished.

So did Arcade, the soldier was turned into the listless doctor with a slim cause by the removal of the suit he wore, a façade that the Courier knew well.

"What about the slaves? And these troopers aren't in good shape." It spoke to the carer inside the man, but what the Courier saw was expendables of a situation that had worked out in the grander scheme, but was a bloody nightmare in effect.

"Speak to them, get the troopers to lead them towards the Dam." Alex ordered the securitron's to enable their protection beyond threats, and then they were rushing onto the _escape._

It only took a few moments it seemed to reach the fort, but all the signs were there for Alex to read.

Fire, smoke, wailing and agonies, bodies littered the legion encampment that seemed to burn for miles upon end, it was as if all the suffering that the legion had inflicted had came back to be laid upon them in one swift exercise of justice.

Mr. House does not want justice, Alex knew, but he could do with some. It would be something to see the corpse of the great Edward Sallow, and then crucify it for all his remaining subjects to see.

The world enlarged before them through the front viewport, landing as they did by Alex's direction: "On that old bastards tent."

They did so, and then they were stepping down through the impromptu landing pad to arrive at a sight truly mad even in these days; the sight of battle was there, flames and scoring, explosive denting and everything else including the crimson veiled bodies.

He had to hold himself to the cold precision of calculation, to see past the onslaught of emotion and then beyond towards that which would garner them the biggest reward of Robert and his combined daring.

But this…this was too much. A securitron approached, calm blue mimicked features rather than the angtsy red, "Sir. We've secured the designated enemy area."

"That's one way of putting it." Alex moved beyond the securitron that wheeled with him, and he looked out onto the thousand or so faces…perhaps more.

Then he realized how Vulpes had escaped, it had been a key sticking point of negotiations between himself and Robert…he'd thrown off his crimson and escaped as if he were one of the grey-clothed soot faced slaves that were seated down on their knees and backsides against the face of Caesar's tent.

"We have the required target Mr. Sennser." The securitron prompted him in such docile tones that he barely registered the words.

Then it dawned on him, required target…another thing that he'd worked out with Robert…who'd not seen the value in such a thing.

"Bring him here." Arcade gave him a flashing glance of concern, he didn't understand, and nor did Robert even with the knowledge still of who was concerned.

He'd not walked amongst the tribals of the east, didn't realize that power amongst the people there wasn't simply force of arms or currency routes, it was myth and shared legend – the power of the gods.

"We'll need to start sourcing food and water," Arcade began, "Not to mention getting them away from this camp…but it'll be hard with those-"

"We have one thing left to do Arcade," Alex replied firmly, and then the doctor realized that something was going on behind what the securitron had said.

"I'm guessing some bread and sleeping bags isn't our best concern," Arcade said, the Courier laughed.

In the face of some ragtag band of old and withered men with one faintly grinning old lady, a pair of dusted mercenary types and another goofy looking blonde haired man, Caesar was dragged out like any of those watching below: A disobedient slave, hauled to the feet of the man who stood there like a shade.

The Courier knew what he looked like to them, a skin changing manifestation with a deathmask that scowled down amongst them – fear and their own humiliations.

It all must have been surreal to them, their god at the feet of this black masked devil.

What would he do to them? "Places are but places, people are what energizes the world towards brilliance. Wouldn't you agree, Edward?"

Sallow looked up at him, defiant and seething, "You have but sent me to my rest amongst the pantheon…they will worship me forever! I will be remembered forever!"

Alex looked out on the faces, saw the gleam in their eyes – hopes and fears, endless possibilities of religious fervor that would follow a martyr if he was drove into their minds but some supreme legend of his glorious end.

"You think you'll be remembered as their endless dream eh?" Alex produced his blade and then drove his blade between his ribs, the cry was there – and gods did not cry out. "I'm going to show these fevered masses that you don't deserve their adulation, and that all you are is a cruel man with vile desires."

Arcade turned away as the Courier went to work, taking fingers and ears, eyes and skin with a clinical brutality that had their vaunted god sobbing by the end of his treatment.

This is the way it had to be, Arcade realized that as he saw the great Caesar sobbed and begged at the feet of the Courier.

Looking down over them Alex and Arcade alike saw something change in the eyes there, a sliver of discontent rolled across their masses as if they would commit themselves to some new and dangerous action.

Then one man amongst them stood, an old dirty face with tattered robes that were almost set upon by the securitron's inside the crowds.

Alex held up a hand and the devices stilled, the man came forward at a dogged pace, slugging his way through the ranks of confused slaves.

He reached the Courier and looked him over, head tilted as if he was willing to find something.

In response the mask was removed, two clasps that revealed his very normal, very ordinary features to the assembled masses.

This mans mind was working along with those others, what were they facing here? What new reality?

"Look upon your god and realize he is but a man my friend." Alex stepped back, motioned over the form of Caesar.

The sun battered face looked down upon his god and then spat on his hunched form, spat again and then kicked him across the stump of a hand.

Something caught Alex from his reverie however, a slight oncoming of movement in his peripheral vision. A movement of maybe thirty men was there, oncoming in a rush of rifles and berets.

Tiny shouts of surprise came from the crowd but then the Courier raised a hand and they became quieted. How many securitron's did he have around him? For the near area it was perhaps thirty, but he could see their glints of movement far across the sloping declines of the forts.

The man leading them was wearing a pressed tan uniform, golden bars and a felt officers cap, all of it was so pristine that Alex hardly noticed the lethal looking men at the generals back.

But the Courier noted them all very well, he even saw the men in the midst of them who should have been at his own side, a barely featured man of conscience that rode well in republican ranks.

The Courier gave the lip movement towards the securitron behind him, it understood the implications perfectly, and Cassidy saw it as well, subconsciously checking her weapon for it's weighting.

"…Some fight you boys put up here. Damn fine work son! Not one crimson survivor it looks like! We sure could have used more of these friends of yours at the Dam."

There was crimson Alex knew, he'd caught sights of downed figures, near conjoined securitron's that he'd ordered to render useless rather than slaughter.

It was part of a larger plan he'd outlined to House, something that the autocrat had called a distraction from the real matters ahead of them.

But the Courier wanted his own nation to build, and what he saw in the faces facing him down with the baited breath…it was something he couldn't fully understand.

"These were the best of the legion, hot damn!" The voice said, "You gona run these robots down towards the river there…we still got butts to kick."

"We're dealing with something at the minute here." The Courier held up a hand, produced a hand signal for Boone that was first recon.

"Who the hell is that…?" Alex held no illusions as to who this buffoon was, but Boone shadowing around him interrupted him.

"Edward Sallow. Caesar." All of the men behind the general held a look of sheer hatred, a collective wince.

"That's Caesar…god damn…this is a good day for the two headed bear son." Alex turned to his republic sniper, gave the man a slight nod.

Oliver broke off his line of thought by Alex pulling free his pistol, alerting the general by the disturbance – the men behind stiffened through training, but they wouldn't move a weapon against the man who was identified for all they knew as an ally.

"This is just another legion criminal, and I'll be putting an end to him momentarily." Alex checked his chambers, one in there willing for use.

The Courier saw the apprehension on the general's face, and he realized the man's political mindset was already kicked into overdrive.

It was obvious that the man had realized the misbalance of power here between them, it was apparent that since their arrival that there was an absence of a salute, the lack of relevant information of this new supreme force that had overwhelmed the republic's horrific child of their old tirade with the followers.

He also knew that Alex had command of entire squadrons of these terrific killing bots that could decimate their lines since they'd torn to shreds by the legion. There was only twenty odd men reinforcing the general, enough to kill the Courier of course, but every one of them would pay with their lives without doubt.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that there, this man's going to have to be tussled up for the folks back home." The general attempted to assert his authority, and failed. "I'll have my boys take him and looked over, it'll make for good reading over the chow lines for the troops once they're all healing up."

It was time for the switch on this snake, he was going to roll with the republic and come up gored or supreme.

"I'm afraid not general," Alex returned, he turned away from the man. "Edward Sallow, by the authority vested within me by humanity as a whole, and the powers of New Vegas that be, I order you to have your brains blown out on the face of your own perverted pulpit."

The general didn't want to lose face, he moved forward to halt Alex in his actions but the securitron interrupted: "Halt! You're interfering with a Nevada directorate authority officer."

"Look you scrap-bucket, I'm here on the orders of the god damned army command of the NCR military and the president!"

The Courier was assured that the men behind became fidgeted with their weapons, what was going on?

"It's already done general," Alex called out behind, and then he turned to Boone, standing nearby with his rifle slung. "I'm sorry Craig, but I'll have to take this old bastard myself."

The man nodded. "You've given me enough legion blood already. Finish them off."

Forgetting the now outraged general, the Courier grabbed Caesar up by the air and braced his pistol against the dictator's temple.

He turned to the crowd and with his voice amplified by surging adrenaline shouted: "No gods! No masters! You are all together free!"

The bullet determined the veracity of his statement, the brains dripping across the chalk-white surface was the addition there.

The crowd below him peered at the sight curiously, and then quietly the dusky man asked him his name.

"Courier Six." He answered.

The man turned and then whispered to those just in front of them, and then the call went through them.

"Courier Six… Courier Six… Courier Six… Courier Six" It rushed through the crowds in a gentle breeze of change, then, "No gods, no masters… No gods, no masters… No gods, no masters…"

"Look, I need to know exactly what's going on here," The general said, "These people aren't free until we've cleared them all-"

"You don't have the authority to clear them general." Alex returned, turning on a heel to face the man, a securitron on the sight, Boone on his left. Behind that were now a sizeable number of securitron's, silently awaiting a command.

"I have the only god damned authority boy." Oliver growled.

The Courier shook his head, almost wistfully.

"Listen general, you might have thought because you spent so much blood and treasure here you think you have a right to decide things…" He saw the man's eyes widen, yes, there it was, the inkling of understanding now. "But that was the same blood that Caesar and his perverted lot spent, the only thing that matters here is who holds the biggest blade at the end – and that's me, and more importantly that's Vegas."

"Vegas…what? The fuck are you talking about…the families…or House? You're talking about House." The man's eyes narrowed, he was instantly gaining in anger.

He noted the numbers now around his own, surrounding them in a half arc of waiting violence.

Here it was, Oliver must have realized what he'd been lead into. He was exposed. He'd thought he was secure in the midst of a republic ally…one that he could work over on his own time, but now he realized he was wrong. There was all the evidence here that the moment of weakness where the NCR would be hit hardest was now, and that there was no way they could save themselves from the power on display here.

The dice was rolled.

"What is this brahim shit…I'm getting the feeling we're not about to start singing koombahyah here."

Alex carefully went for a sleeve on the innards of his Pip-Boy, produced a thin piece of paper that he held out for Oliver, who snatched it away.

"Your terms of surrender general." Boone was beside him, stoic as ever.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oliver snorted, "What is this…The _Free Economic Zone of New Vegas_…what hell does that mean…oh here we go?"

"Demands NCR's immediate withdrawal..." Snarling anger…"Withdrawal? Like fucking – hell we're withdrawing...we just held the dam, we didn't do it to let it go!"

"This paper of yours? Isn't fit to wipe my ass. If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

"You have no choice." The Courier stated, watching weapons, anticipating responses.

"You know I won't surrender the Dam, and certainly to the ghost man of Vegas and his new right-hand-man-of-the-week."

The Courier smiled, laughed ever so lightly.

"You have no choice general, you played a bum hand and now you're chips are already mixed into the pot. Your army is useless, like your state, accept the reality and don't throw away more lives than needed."

"We held this place for years, kicked one Legate out of here so hard Caesar burned him to a crisp. It's our post, we've fought for it! I'll fight for it again today. If you're looking to convince me otherwise, then you better have a lot more reasons than you just telling me to go." Oliver chuckled, attempted to put on a sweetened face, "Look, House... Vegas... it's pretty, got you blinded a bit maybe, but NCR's got perks, too. Think about it before you sign on with him."

Then the other shoe dropped…what a fool this man was…"And if you say "no," keep in mind what that means. NCR may have its problems, but when we're riled, watch out."

Alex shook his head, "general, right now I can have you and your men blazed into crisps, then I'll send every securitron you see here over towards the Dam to jab a blade so tight in between your armies ventricles that it'll never recover. Imagine the damage that two thousand securitron's fully armed and loaded could do to you're army now?" He allowed the man to think about it, allowed the men behind the same luxury.

Then, ever so delicately he mentioned quite a few other cards he'd held up for display, no holding back now.

"The brotherhood have already been alerted along with those that you saw in the plane of the consequences of your disobedience, immediate assaults against your Mojave boundary positions, meaning complete encirclement and destruction…not to mention what that plane could do to Shady Sands…"

"You fucking snake!" The man snarled.

"It isn't personnel general, its just business." Alex dismissed him with a wave of his hand, turned back towards the masses before him…an enticing prospect these people, imagine what he could do with them if he offered them simple hope.

"This life is about adjustments general," The Courier began his speech as the man stared on, brooding and calculating. "If you look over the terms of your removal then you'll see it offers very little further risk, and a reward that will offer great opportunities for economic recovery in the west…"

He let it hang in the air, beckoned towards the very apparent threat of the securitron's now baring their missile salvo housing units.

It's your death or all your lives, your pride or your survival.

Alex would have fought, and the Courier would have won.

Around them was the flash of Oliver's own life, his men and then the entirety of the republic's veteran core, and their threats didn't falter past the blood soaked crimson or even House's supreme techno-army.

General Lee Oliver drooped his head, rubbed a hand through his hair..."Okay, okay…I accept. But I can't tell you that they'll accept back in Shady Sands."

Alex turned to him, told him firmly, "They don't have an option, study the document general. It'll show that you and your men are to disarm immediately, this call will be generated across your radio lines to every base that our by now roving securitron's will invest within. Failure to meet the conditions meets death for your army…" He leveled a final warning glance at the man, "Take what victories you can find general, it's better than an ignominious death."

Oliver bore him extreme hatred, given him one final withering stare before removing his officer's pistol and tossing it at Alex's feet.

"There's always another day boy." The man turned on his heels, shouted for his men to follow his instructions.

Alex turned to Cassidy, saw the pained look on her features.

He removed another document, an instruction for her on organizing the mass removal of republican stores, materials and stocks as well as the more delicate matter of the dead and wounded.

"You want me to personally deliver your parting rim shot?" She asked.

"I want you to use your expertise to make this as painless as possible," He returned, "And I need you to start making inroads to the petty engineers and staffers of the Dam as well, round up experts and all the sort that'll be needed to keep that thing going, not to mention repairing it."

"What's the thirty pieces we're going to be offering?"

Alex shrugged, "See what you can work out, they're going to be specialists so it should be reflected."

"You want me to do anything?" Boone asked, entirely composed and yet all the same a look of complete tearing constitution.

"Get amongst the men you know in the army, the good ones that have a real bitter hatred against those legion assholes…" Boone followed his idea immediately.

"House isn't sending his robots to roll over the river is he?" He asked.

The Courier shook his head, already having rationalized the decision in his mind.

"I'm afraid not," He admitted, "That's why we're going to have to offer something a little more personnel."

The sniper nodded, and then Alex was away from them all, looking down on the muted faces that followed his every movement.

"This is going to be one hell of a cleanup effort." Arcade said from behind.

In all those faces Alex could see that he agreed fully, just how was he going to deal with all this?

"What does House want to do with these people?" Arcade asked.

"Nothing, I think he just sees them as some useless overflow of the human condition," Alex went for the commanding tones he'd displayed when required, just like in the midst of this new human difficulty. "Me, I kind of see them as all the people I killed instead of saving...some chance for redemption..."


	5. Roman Days

Elsie remembered the days before she had her eyes stolen.

She remembered the dusty-grey skies that sat overhead the family cabin at night, the orange flickers that jumped from the fire that her father always guaranteed.

Her father would sit - George, his name was important; with his wife Annie, and tell her and the others of their past; their peoples past. They were older than the oldest people from east to west across the old country, maybe even the oldest people to ever live upon their world, before even the far away chinamen that were so old as to be ancient, the ones who fought the old American Commonwealth in the war.

With them she moved with their whole family, her sister Maria and brother Elias, uncle Genevieve and uncle Leonard, and their little cousins George and Dosa, across Hopedale, Prisalaca, Ranchorino and Ramon's Retreat.

It had been across the great state Colorado, and they had lived there in peace and harmony, her mother and her sister Maria weaving baskets and selling them for good food, old music that played on some old world electronic machine, and a home, shelter enough for all of them in a little piece of life that would stay with her forever.

Then the legion had came, and with them they brought their fire and their blood and finally the silence.

George was there on his knees but unbroken, snarling like the great wolf; not her father, a man to them, a useless man who would not bend, decapitated with one swing of Lanius's great sword. It was Annie next, too old, couldn't breed or give pleasure, she fared the same. Her brother Elis was too small, they had enough boys on that ranging.

Maria was somewhere, in the midst of tears and blood and men, Dosa was dragged away with little George.

Then Lanius had stood before her - over her with his gleaming mask of pain.

"You will be mine." He'd said in that terrifyingly low rumble, so promising of some fate that she couldn't imagine.

Then he calmly bent down to her and took out a small fetching knife, and then her eyes were gone.

Silence.

Years passed, how many? The legion and time was never told in the quiet of Lanius's tent, in his chambers or bed.

There was another there, and Elsie - slave - only heard him speak of her once.

"You have not serviced me as longer as my older dog has." His voice was somber. "But in time you'll take her place. She will feel your hands at her throat or hers at yours."

She waited for the day when she would join him as a killer of women, of children and men - anything that his brutality was fixated upon.

And then she had heard the laugh, the whisper of sunshine through the heavy air of the tent. The great beast had ordered his executor brought into hand, the pairs of heavy feet had came, and then the laughter.

Thump - thump...one of them spilled his blood onto her, and she froze, then panicked and then she was rushing from the tent as smoke and fire engulfed it.

The memories of Ramon and his retreat were there, the smoke and the fire and then the idea of Lanius. But other hands were on her, old coursed hands that prodded her towards something she couldn't quite realize.

Sounds formed in her ears, a choking wheeze and a rasp that was close to the rolling rumble of Lanius.

The laugh was there, but then there was so much more sound and explosions and silence until finally she heard something towards a person, a real person who didn't sound a savage...that didn't have the drone of the silent slave beside her.

"I hear the feet of men coming." It was her silent slave sort, the only companion who had shared her agony, but never her words, usually.

A loud squelch of boots was there, one set, the Old Voice had been right. They came close, close enough for her to smell sweat and blood and a man that brought her back to Lanius again.

He was gone however, she found it in the chaos that he was dragged away in the agony of defeat.

"Hi there." It was the laughter voice.

Elsie had no words, she didn't even have a voice. It had been years since she'd spoke, those last words to her mother before the far fields of wheat fields lit up in the legion advance.

"You are the new masters?" The Old Voice.

"No gods. No masters." Fingers danced across hers, and she recoiled away until she was nearly falling off the stump of metal she rested upon.

She was so hungry, but the fear was there of the touch, Lanius was in that touch.

"Hey hey! Sorry." The voice was near, more serious.

"I will hold her." Old Voice. "You lead the way, I will hear you."

Old voice did so, but they didn't go far, and the smells were there again, compelling and repulsive to her.

"Yeah well just no more falling about." Came the mutter.

The feeling was strange, an instant flash of pain that was gone into her memories like every other, and then there were more voices, happy and chirpy voices that sounded like what she remembered were greetings and cheers and that irrepressible happiness that felt so foreign that she was almost to tears.

"Put this onto her skin, and then push down the plunger." The laughter voice was business like, efficient like a legion slave master.

"What for?" Old voice demanded.

"I'm going to give her the ability to see again." Was the reply. "The same for yourself. Now if you please."

Tears welled in her eyes as she allowed the Old Voice close.

Once, Elsie had asked her father for the pelt of a small creature, when it had been different and he still held the fire for things beyond the Retreat, back before the curse had arrived, but he would not kill for pure want, it had to be need. It was happy, happiness, for her? She remembered the grass and the fields, the oily greens that swept down into the pearl blue river, where she spent time with her brother and sister and aunt wishing and floating about on a basket she'd crafted with her mothers help.

She felt nothing, heard nothing, nothing surrounded her, and she lived within her own mind in a place of pools of icy water that broke Lanius from her flesh, and the pallid fields washed her mind free of the fear.

Those woods and fields and skies and softness of life held her for en eternity, and then she was pulled from it.

Back to a world of darkness, she was there with only her ears and her breathing, the steady flow and then a hitch as she recalled what she had been promised.

All the laws of Lanius and Caesar forbidding and prohibiting a slave being freed, not even the great butchers of the arena could be freed truly.

"Time to see child." Old voice's hands were on her, urging her up onto her feet. She felt the strange coldness of the floor beneath her feet and then felt the brush of warm air upon her face.

"If you're going to see again for the first time in forever, it's better to make it memorable." The laughing voice, and then the Old Voice was removing the bandages.

No face to greet her, but then there was all the familiarity of life...no trees or lakes or greens or blues but life, cold and sterile and very strange. It was a place from the lands before the bombs; none of it familiar, all paved and shorn towards the greys of old world machines, towers with bloated heads and rolling pipes that spread out to soot stained haunts. She noticed that beyond the massive perch she looked out from there was the distant grit of the world as she'd known it, all those miles and miles of faceless ground, and then she saw little things, specks of distant movement that were wild and evil and that didn't move like a living thing should.

"Welcome to the Big Empty." She jumped at the voice beside her, looked over the man there. He was not like she could remember from her father and brother, his face was jagged like the wolfs, with a smile that could twist to a sneer. His clothing was plain, a cotton shirt and tanned trousers, no leathers or crimsons.

She'd never seen a man like him since before her sight had been taken, and then she realized she was looking at someone for what seemed like eternity, and then the tears came.

It was like a torrent, something that she couldn't recognise until she was heaving with Old Voice's hands holding her. Huge wracking sobs engulfed her and then she realized the tears weren't hurting her, that she was free and that she could look out and take in the gentle curve of the sun trending past the unending sandy-hued rock face, it was the feeling of pure joy.

"It's okay child." She could see Old Voice now; bland and prune faced, wearing nothing but a swallowing brown cloak that left her almost featureless beyond her eyes.

They were all the things that Elsie couldn't describe, purest blue, with a frightening lightness about them that was both tranquil and perching all the same.

"Your eyes..." Her mouth felt dry, and she quieted herself. She didn't want to offend.

"Are as yours." Old Voice replied, and then she smiled with green leafed stains under a shunted nose, Elsie realized how old and frayed she was at the edges.

Her eyes were drawn to the other face again, he smiled, offered a hand.

"I'm Courier Six." Elsie offered her hand back limply, she didn't trust anyone who was that pleased, not in a place like this.

"Why did you do it?" She dared the question.

Alex's brow crinkled in response, the question seemed benign until he realized the undertones. This was a slave, they didn't think too highly of themselves.

Honesty would work here well enough. "Because you survived Lanius, I thought the least I could do would be to give you your sight back."

Not knowing what to say, Elsie stared back at him, unsure and apprehensive.

"What are we to do now?" Old Voice asked.

The Courier shrugged. "I could do with a small favor."

Elsie saw knew that Old Voice's eyes met hers in sudden fear. "What?" She croaked.

"I need you to speak to some slaves." He answered.

The answer startled her, why would he want her to speak to slaves? Did he own slaves?

"What?" Old Voice's voice cut clearly through him.

He laid out his two white coated arms out in what she imagined should have been a gesture of ease.

She hadn't imagined she would ever see a something like a folksy wave of the arms again, and it rumbled inside of her, just like Lanius's brooding cruelty.

"You do realize you aren't the only slaves?" The Courier let the question linger. "Yet you are important. Lanius's two slave whores - excuse the crude term that I have to redeem from the legions pens - you are the sight that they all fear; the final judgment of Legate Lanius. And yet here you are, unblemished in every sense that people can see, here you are, with Lanius and his most cruel efforts removed."

Elsie felt a spike of emotion at that...but her voice was stalled by that old command, speak and you shall lose your tongue.

"Removed...?" Old Voice held a curious tint to her tone, was it anger? "Lanius shall never be removed from my skin."

The wolf faced man held up his hands in what Elsie thought was apology. "I did not mean to offend. I consider you and the other victims of the legion the most worthy cause of my judgment against the legion. However, you must realize that you have been held up as a fate worse than all others who have felt the lash? You with your new sight are a source of hope for all the slaves of the legion, all those poor people who were taken from their families."

Old voice laughed. "We are just a pair of brutalized daughters of dead families, how can we help someone like you?"

The Courier smiled, and it was something towards reassuring he hoped.

"I need you to show all those like you that Caesar and his dog Lanius are ghosts," The words carried with them a hope to Elsie, but they could not be true. "That you are unbroken, even if it is not true. Caesar is dead, and the Legate's legion will wither and die under the rule of that butcher."

Elsie thought on the words, but it again seemed like she would be pricked awake.

"I need a symbol of power for your people." He insisted. "We will not be marching towards Flagstaff like some republican army, it'll be you and your people that will defeat the legion."

"How?" Old Voice asked.

"A symbol can be anything: A building, an event, a time of great sorrow, or as more often than not, a person. You are supposed to be the lowest among the legion, the dog slaves of Legate Lanius - their new Caesar; but if you are shown amongst all those who doubt their place as ascendant people, with the stink of legion oppression, then you can become that symbol of hope we need."

"Lanius still has thousands of men at his command," Old Voice croaked, "Why should we not just run, hide away from him?"

The Courier sighed. "Because if you run you'll never escape him, he'll stay behind every dark corner and strange face until the day you die." Turning away, he led them inside by virtue of both of them holding to his goodwill.

Inside the Courier turned back to them near a device that was small, box-shaped and dark blue, and beside it were two strange colored bags that looked filled to a bulge. All of this was inside a room that held strange lightings and shades, pearly and shining and something that was so interesting.

"Inside these bags are two thousand caps each, two changes of cloth, shoes, utensils, whatever else you would imagine you need." Alex said. "With that I have cloaks and weapons for you, if you so choose to leave the Mojave. Failing that, you can come with me and help me liberate your brothers and sisters, with just one look of your faces."

"And after?" Elsie asked.

He shrugged. "I have plans for all of you together-if you all wish; namely that you will be given the chance to join a society that actually allows you to live your lives. Homes, jobs, food, families, all the usual things that you would like to get away from on a Sunday and have a day in bed instead."

Elsie found the idea of a day in bed - alone and comfortable - was so unbelievable that she didn't even dare believe it.

"And if we don't want this?" Elsie asked.

His shrug was there again. "It is your life, I would only say that you give me enough time to adjust to life beyond the legion before you make any decisions." The Courier picked up the small device. "I'll need you both to close your eyes, but before that you can pick up and your packs and you're free to leave, or you can give me a chance."

We wouldn't survive a day without him anyhow, it was just another way in which they were trapped.

Elsie fought the urge to nod her head, as a slave would, as she was, and then she felt Old Voice close to her.

"We'll only be a second," Alex said. "But I need both of your promises, one thing that you will owe me for your freedom." Elsie opened her eyes, noticed that he was very close to her, with his blue gaze settled on her.

"What must we do?" She asked.

"Never mention this place, never speak of it to anyone." His voice was serious, not frightening, but the tone was a warning. "This is my place, and no one can learn of it, nor how we arrived here -" That was why their eyes were closed then. "That's it, now shut those bright blue eyes and we'll get going."

"Back to the legion?" Old Voice asked.

Eyes closed, Elsie heard the laugh again. "No, to the legions festering corpse."

There was the strange flicker of pain again, and then they were back inside Lanius's camp, but now she could lay her eyes on the place that had held her like so many other featureless wastes.

It was a ruin, every hut and tent was either burnt down or shattered, the air was still tainted and there was that awful smell of bodies expiring. Looking through one of the ditches (she could actually take in the detail of the rock!) She saw the bodies, stained crimson that was having that detail removed by heavy edged blockish...things, they made her shudder once she saw their fake faces, but the Courier was beside her, smiling.

"My robot securitrons," He explained. "Robots, not able to think and feel like you and me, but very capable. Warriors and workers in effect."

"What are they doing?" She could see what they were doing, taking the long and rich cloaks of Lanius's elite guardsmen, then piling them up beside their staves and swords, helmets and armor that they had fashioned from the corpses of their defeated enemies.

"The legion once smelted these tools to enforce their monstrous rule upon the world, we'll now use them to build a better future together." One of the creatures approached them on a single wheel, leaving her to wonder how it balanced so well.

"Is everything ready?" Alex asked without a hint of fear. What a strange man he was.

"The gathering of the slaves has been completed, legionary prisoners are also present. They await your arrival director." The voice was calm and plain, not the thing she would have expected.

Alex turned to her and Old Voice, his face was set in a firm line. "It's time to go, but it'll be you two who will feel this day. If either of you wish to leave then this is your moment."

"What will we have to do?" She asked.

"You just need to stand beside me, and let them see." She nodded, shakily, and then they were walking, her without assistance, the feeling of fear was intermingled by a strange feeling of power as she realized she could take in every inch of the sun bleached ground with her own eyes.

Old Voice walked beside her, almost merrily, with a strange crook to her soot stained smile.

Around them more of the robots marched, holding up great weights of Lanius's deposed guards, their faces were masks of subtle and weird authority.

"What are these things?" Old Voice asked.

"Securitrons." Alex answered, but it did not add anything to deter her questioning look. "Robotic-electronics with brain matrix's that work along the lines of say-dumber minds. They are able to fight, pick enemies and aggressors, follow commands to a surprising level, fight and kill, serve and build."

Old Voice's nose crinkled. "They do not look like warriors."

Walking just ahead of them with a brisker pace, Elsie noted the smile.

"They aren't made of muscle and nerve, or bravery or will." The Courier said. "They feel no fear, and machetes don't work too well against their inches thick armor."

Lanius would have ripped these things to pieces she thought, but then, what was he? She watched him walk, and his shape wasn't hidden under his light clothing: He had a liquid movement to him, his limbs brushed off his body and she realized-or perhaps thought that he could twist and kill them both if he desired with just one of those light hands.

She needed to stop that she knew, he wasn't a killer, or at least he was a killer who wouldn't slave them or trade them.

That became apparent as they began to wind away from Lanius's own little fief and move towards something she had never seen but had both felt and suffered, the fort of Caesar, a massive pile that represented the legions power on the door of the Republican bear.

It was a pile now, which became apparent as they traversed the slope that was narrow and hammered down with a metaled staircase. It wasn't empty, in fact it was filled with those same robots that were busy pulling down big drafts of drab materials, high wooden poles and little pegs that she was sure were to be hammered down for the use of cover.

She wondered how many of these things he controlled, but the question died on her lips are she beat a large artificial hump that Caesar had heaped up as a defensive entry (Something Lanius had been informed off) and then saw what slaves he described.

She couldn't count them, but she knew there were hundreds of them, ranked together in big swarms around cooking fires and huts and resting piles, men women and children who were not laughing or looking happy, not jubilant at the offered freedom (or so he said) but she saw were fed and unchained and loose, able to walk and gather freely despite more of the silver bodies of the robots.

Close to them was a massive hill, and she gathered that it had been from here Caesar had looked down on his subjects and slaves, but there was no great hutment of his. It was a simple hill with some wood and a small platform with a string silver bell at the top of a box at the forefront.

The smell was…strange…the sort of sickness that always accompanied Lanius after his days of slaughter.

"If you want food, feel free to grab some on the hillside." Alex instructed, and then he began to roll up the hill, glad to see that while the slaves had been unshackled the securitrons had pulled down everything beyond the encampment winding down towards the base that surrounded Caesar's old home for some miles.

'This is an unnecessary usage of my bots Director.' Robert had admonished him, but Alex had deterred him.

'We need a workforce, and a state.' He'd argued. 'I'm not saying we'll be going along republican lines, I'm not that dense, but we need people to start spending and expanding to some sizeable degree. Your bots don't do well on their leisure time, and I don't want to allow the NCR one piece of leverage."

Robert had deferred, and now Alex was moving towards the impromtu podium he had set up for this key moment.

A state built on the back of slaves for slaves, it was something that spoke to him on a very deep level, a phantom hope almost.

He stood there, ascendant upon the stand with the two girls beside him, both unsure and afraid, but bright eyed and upright.

Arcade then produced himself from a deluge in the hillside behind, and he carried with him Alex's little cabal of strangling's, his scribe-friend in her slightly more appropriate blue-grey jumpsuit, Raul in his own tatty garb, and others that he knew just by their leaders strange spiked up hair, the head of the Followers who must have accompanied Arcade on his return here along with some of her roving band of compassionates.

Julie Farkas; humane, intelligent, with a grit that accompanied so many long years of grinding out the experience of caring for others within the still-wastelands of New Vegas.

The soul-crushing hurt was there within her eyes however, he saw it clearly as she surveyed the numberless number of beaten down people who were strewn out against the position he occupied.

Not enough cynicism to trust with a true responsibility the Courier feared. But then maybe she had that curiously pervasive thought in the back of her mind; did he and Robert wish to keep themselves in such a spot indefinitely?

He could have said the same about Arcade however, but then that fear still remained.

"Hi Alex." He noted the shades of black and grey under the followers eyes, something that was a trait within the small number of white-coated associates she had travelled with.

They must have been hard at it within Freeside, and that left him with the posing questions of whether they came to fret over House's assured to be heavy-handed enforcement, or concern for all these displaced people.

Both he found could be true with the Followers, but only the former could be true of the usual wasteland sorts; it was their concern and then no other. The Followers were a group that where perpetually concerned with others, always digging their head in where they couldn't be sure of whether they would lose them or not.

Admirable fools.

"Always a pleasure to see you Julie," He returned, unforced. "Even if the circumstances are always so difficult."

Julie seemed to brighten a fraction, and he recalled that he had often wondered if their relationship could have been something a little more than businesslike if the situation had permitted.

"I was going to agree, but it doesn't look like the fort has much in the way of tragedy compared to here…" Well it is a larger fort, that was what Alex would have lightly said, but then he had to be clinical and honest for the conversation to come.

He knew what these people wanted from him. They would never admit it fully, but they understood that he was the only counter to House.

"Actually these people might just be better off than those in your hands." He said.

Julie along with Arcade looked at him queerly, along with the ghoul and the scribe.

"How do you figure?" Arcade asked.

"Think about what this is," He replied. "Caesar's camp, fit for the housing of thousands of the legion; equipped with metals, foodstuffs, medicines and housing for a number that you might notice – is slightly diminished."

Arcade held that glimmer of curiosity within his deep green eyes. He always held that same suspicion, the glimmer of fear of the Courier's mischief.

"So what? House isn't trying for the spoils of war?" Arcade asked. Alex withheld his scowl.

"A technocratic megalomaniac House may be –" Alex replied with a fake smile, "But he is well known for his economic scruples. It doesn't help Vegas to have these people destitute and desperate right on the doorstep."

"And what do you think?" One of the followers asked, an aged female doctor with broken leathered skin that he could almost grasp the name off.

"I think these people deserve a chance," The Courier looked over towards Elsie, weak and afraid, Lanius's favorite dog to beat, "And I think they deserve a little bit more than being a heartwarming article on the back of _roaring bear's _magazine, while the Republic whores them out onto some derelict barren. Before resettlement-turned-starvation march."

"House isn't no prize either boss." Raul interjected.

The Courier waved him off irritably. "House didn't rob these people of their lives. He allowed them to have them back."

"House doesn't have the right to disallow them from anything." Arcade replied testily. His jaw squared under his cloistered chin, leaving the Courier to almost forgive him for the repeated simplicity.

"House has the largest claim in these lands for the right to do so." He said, waving them towards the unarranged dais, "That largest of claims comes from having the largest collection of bullets and bombs."

"It wasn't House's bullets and bombs that swept away the legion Courier. Not completely." Julie reminded him, leaving him to smile wryly before he turned off and climbed the slope.

They all followed him, Arcade and Veronica within the midst of them. The doctor was sullen, the scribe unsure.

"After I left off the remnants I went to the city," Arcade began, unsure of how to proceed, "It was chaos Veronica, absolute chaos. Just blood and violence, -everyone was running like Lanius was on the doorstep."

Her eyes met his, and she quietly reminded him that the Courier's ear was always prickly.

"It was madness Veronica –" He continued unabated, but a slightly lowered tone, "All House did was order his bloody robot henchmen into Freeside; he had them roll over people!"

Her eyes shot round to see if the hawk-eyes were present, but they were undiscovered.

Damn Arcade and his dreamy-eyed idealism!

"You have to have some faith," She insisted, still staring towards the Courier, deep in conversation with two women she hadn't seen before. Both of them were wearing long brown robes, dark featured and with strangely glistening eyes.

"You heard him." Arcade complained. She had to see that House was just as bad as Caesar, that he meant just as much pain for them all. It didn't come down to crucifixions and slavery. There was more to an awful life than having to worry about the vilest of crimes being committed by whatever despot called himself first amongst them.

"But he's already stopped House from going after my family, he's already stopped House from tearing down Primm; and what he offered the Khan's –"

"You're can't expect him to hold off House forever," Arcade returned, uncaring now that his voice was dangerously level to be picked up upon. "And you're weighing all of this on one man and one old halfmad despot." Arcade pulled her away, enough that they were away from the rolling tumult of the crowds.

"Listen to me Veronica," Arcade placed a hand upon her bicep, feeling the tense muscle underneath the coarse fabric of her overlays. He knew he was on the knife-edge, he knew that the way she felt for Alex clouded her judgment so often.

"If we don't do something about House then this entire country-everything that we'll ever be will be how House says it should be." The words held Veronica's own, and she nodded dumbly, leaving Arcade to sigh and then take the final perch in.

It was madness, sheer faced chaos shown through a thousand faces; swaying and gliding in a haze of smoke and ease. She'd never seen anything quite like it.

It was stunning.

She'd never seen so many people…not since the day since she'd last seen a republican battleground, all those years ago when she was just a little mop of hair. Dirty and rotten, they were everything that she had been told to hate and fear, and yet it was always more fear.

Every one of them would have killed her. Not directly though; that was too brutish for a republican - and therefore supposedly upstanding and honor-bound soldier. Instead they would have sat back and allowed their sappers to force the elder into making the only decision they knew how too: mass suicide for all.

Mr. House would never force himself into any space smaller than every single scoured hectare of their hellworld. He wanted it all. And where other leaders like Caesar or Kimball thought inside their own one dimensional tunnel worlds, House held them as pitiful men with puny visions.

That was one thing Arcade feared, a single concern amongst many. It was coupled with the ever more striking realization that House was too clever for most of them, and now more powerful than all of them, separated and completely invulnerable even against the expanse of NCR power.

They were approaching the precipice, with House ready to overawe the last few sources that could confront him, and here was something Alex was going to deliver him: an entire people willing to enslave themselves to House's supposed generosity.

They still hadn't managed to talk about what he'd found in his strange trip to the old world tech center that House had sent him towards, not since everything had heated up and then exploded.

It had meant a lot to House, which meant it was important, maybe even essential to the survival of the race.

He had made all of the Republic soldiers tuck their tales and turn back home. The bad men that had haunted her from her first days and throughout her youth.

They couldn't allow House to turn these people into another horde of violence.

She approached the podium until she was stood behind Alex, there with the strange women-slaves for sure, and then Julie and Raul and the followers.

"What are you doing with them?" She whispered, on the tips of her toes to brush the words against Alex's ear.

She felt so small in the scheme of all this, just like she had before within the Brotherhoods downward spiral, before she'd met Alex.

"I'm freeing them." He replied.

"Yeah, but what are you really gonna do with them?" That got a turn, a skewed glare.

"Trust me." She was surprised that the word's actually worked towards being impatient. She never got the impatient voice.

She did trust him, and then it began: The mic flared and all of the rabbit like faces looked up to see them standing there, even though she was sure Alex had already grabbed their attention.

He was smooth. Not one piece of him was overawed by the masses.

"Hello there. I'm the guy who shot Caesar in the head." He had a smirk on his face. His tone was jovial and his body language was casual under his stark linen shirt. The expression of the wasteland around them was sand-shorn and dusky, the outline of the legion camp was still present, the people were shallow faced and confused, "And as you know I also broke him down, cut off his little pieces, and I did it for a very good reason."

Alex paused and his eyes skirted towards a flank of the slaves, Veronica's followed. There were legion men, red-cloaked but without any visible arms, placed under the guard of Securitron's that actually held their metal paws at the men's shoulders.

"You there, you legion men!" Alex's voice blared. They where attentive to him, watching as he lifted a hand. It was a signal for a pair blue-chassed securitron's to bring something forward within their harsh paws.

A shape: bloody, humanoid…no. Human. Fingerless-faceless-frayed skin. The cloak that was stained with a darker crimson was trimmed with gold, the mess of a face was sunken and rounded in an almost peculiar shape she had remembered Alex taunting after they had last been at this place.

"Caesar." Alex's voice rumbled, "Your god – your master." Another signal and then securitron's were rolling forward.

"What?" Julie gasped beside her as the body was dumped down the small hill, leaving Caesar's corpse to twist and curl through the sand blemished ground, until it was flopping to a halt before the assembly.

There was an audible gasp, a startle of movement through the small blot of legionary men who where present.

Alex descended the hill, in his hand was a tube – Veronica thought it was a mic that he had attached to speakers submerged in the mounds around them – a red tube that she couldn't catch sight off.

"God's do not die. God's do not cry." A spark ignited from Alex's hand. A flare. He dropped it carelessly at the body and then the entire shelf ignited in a roar of fire. "More importantly, god's do not burn or shrivel." The legionary's exploded.

The securitron's restrained them with ease, outkicking legs were restrained as easy as fists and elbows, "That man you see there was a liar and a fraud, he deserved nothing more than to be burnt like the trash." Alex went before them, and then spoke.

It was articulate, it was eloquent; it was all the things that Veronica imagined Kimball wished he could communicate without even his own constituents rolling with laughter – or that the corpse festering beside the Courier wished he could bellow while machetes rose and fall.

It all became a mess of soft promises and cautious enthusiasm; Alex talked about their right to more than a slave's life, the Courier warned them that they would have to fight for it. Alex told them off the potential for them to become a society of love and kindness, the Courier let them know that it would still be their backs that would bear them.

"Here you have the tools and resources required to become everything you always wished for," Alex told them, body rigid, voice like fire, "Everything! But you will have to work with us, you will have to rid yourselves of the legions demons, and help us bring your lands towards the civilizations you once knew and loved."

"What about the legion?" Was the reply, from faces that were quiet and others moves who felt brave enough to question.

"The legion is a beast without a heart, or a head." The Courier replied. "In time it shall fall and burn as true as it's fake lord has." Alex stopped and awaited more questions.

A silence passed over the entirety of the camp. These slaves were unsure, and then one of them spoke up.

"I've seen the extent of the legion," It was fear. "It is endless. It rolls across entire worlds of cities and mountains. Caesar has thousands more warriors than the ones you destroyed."

Alex smiled, shrugged. "And yet yesterday none of you would have dared imagine that you would sit here today free."

"But what about when they return? All of us are from strong families and tribes-and yet none of us could match one file off the legion." It was a different voice, a pulped man who spoke from under a shattered eye and evil looking welts across his exposed chest.

"I routed this entire camp with the flick of a single little old world button, and I decimated Lanius and his men with just six men." Alex said. "There is the remnant of Caesar's guard, the finest men of the legion that I didn't bury along with his limping dog-heir –" He pointed a finger to the struggling men, "Weak and helpless against the power of the old world – that we will use together to built a new one together."

"And you will help us go home?" It was the first voice, a grave voiced old man who dared to remove himself forward from the masses.

The Courier nodded, "In time everything claimed by the legion will be removed from their control."

"What will we do until then?" Fear.

"You will stay here." Alex answered. Veronica saw the ripple run through them all, and so did Arcade and Julie, who shared a worried look. "I know this has been one of many nightmare places that the legion has used to hold you in your slavery, but this place is rich and well placed. It has the metal resources, fortifications and materials needed to upkeep all of you in comfort."

"But what about their memories, their minds and souls?" The Courier snapped his head around to look at Arcade.

"Right now we need to deal with the immediate issues of food, water and shelter." The Courier replied.

"For how long." He pressed.

"I won't be able to give any simple timetable for this," Alex turned back towards the crowds. He was unhappy at that. "All I can tell you is that here you are safe and secure, my robots will help you stay on your feet. We will of course speak about these ideas in detail, and for that I will need people to speak too."

"We have no leaders?" Was the reply from the brave old face.

Alex turned again. He offered a hand with fingers up pointing towards the brown-robed girl and woman who were mutely stood beside them.

"There stands Lanius's personal slaves," He said. "You know them all of you: the woman who he took from his village, who was punished by the loss of her eyes and her life as a human-beside her is the girl who Lanius took for her beauty, to destroy her innocence and cow all the love in the legion." Everyone looked at them, everyone saw that within them were the heart of slaves and the supposed descriptions of those two infamous women.

No one would have asked the question that Alex answered, "How can I prove this? Simple -" Alex raised a hand, more securitron's, "Here is one of Lanius remaining guards –" They produced a man, tough and mean with narrow features and a scorn deeply routed at Alex, she imagined that had something to do with the stump he had for what should have been a machete hand, "I've offered this man a simple deal: Identify these women as who they truly are, and I shall not slaughter the rest of his lot."

Veronica thought the same thing that Arcade said, "Wouldn't they say that to save their own skin?" The Courier laughed.

"These men were told always and forever by their new dog-Caesar that they must never debase themselves like a profligate would, and to use their tongues as they would their blades."

The legionary's sneer greeted Alex's words.

"Are these Lanius's slaves?" The question was direct and simple, but instead the Courier loved the words.

"They are his whores." Alex nodded, and then struck the legionary so hard with the back of his hand that the man dumbly slumped after the blow toppled him over.

"Weak just like your master." Alex turned to the little imperfection of crimson, "Listen to me my legion friends and listen well; you are all failures, returning to a master who would rather have you gutted and spiked that ever breath a word of what you say here today. Your death is assured. Instead I give you the choice as you depart this place: Take up the brand of the legion that will always mark you as one of poor lot who still follow your burned god – or strike your crimsons and walk into your homelands and tell the tales of your dead god." The Courier waved a hand, and then the legionary's were being removed with as much grave as the securitron's could manage.

"Your letting them go?" Arcade asked, incredulous.

Alex shrugged, "What matter are a few broken men to me? If Lanius gets his hands on them then he'll kill every single one of them, if we doesn't then I expect their emotions will get the better of them, and I imagine these tales will slip out. Either way, they will cause an uproar, the death of Caesar related by his own trusted legionary sons."

The Courier turned, looked onto the crowd that had grown restless since his long worded speech. Time to let them stew.

"Have time to think about what I say my friends," Alex told them, before he offered them one more hand towards Elsie and old face, "Here they are, Lanius's slaves, unbroken and with the eyes to see this new world again. Think about what I offer you friends, and remember that we can wash away all of your fears together."

Walking up the hill Alex put a hand to Elsie shoulder, "Spend a little time with them, allow them to see you for what you are: free." He thought she looked terrified, but he knew it would have to be done.

No one could be exempt from this new civilization.

She nodded with a hand captured by the gnarled old paw belonging to the woman beside her, ravaged face kindly affectionate.

"We will do as you say, Mr. Six." The Courier smiled.

This was a good day. He knew as much as he took himself away from the ascent and down towards a makeshift camp he had set up the night before.

"Pleased with yourself?" Arcade's question annoyed him, but he gave a smile all the same. "Emancipation is always a pleasing business." Arcade snorted.

"I don't know why you're still deluding yourself into thinking House will allow these people to be free." Was the reply.

Alex picked up a beer, removed the lid with some hard skin between his thumb and finger. "House will allow me to do as I please, and building these people up into a vanguard against the legion will be very pleasing." Julie, Arcade and Veronica joined each other in a troubling stare.

"You're going to use them as soldiers?" Veronica asked.

Alex smiled. "No. I'm going to use them to push a little bit of sensability back into Colorado and beyond," He took a large swig of his beer, "The entire region has been swept up in Sallow's dogmatic vision of purity. I think we'll use good old fashioned plenty and fun to get the message through."

"How do you think you'll manage that?" Julie asked, very curious.

"Very simple." He answered. "We'll use what Caesar or whatever puppet the Republic put in power can't do, namely use intelligence and decency. We're not going to go along and try and outbreed whatever monstrous movement erupts from this lunatic bin or the other."

"What does that mean?" Julie asked.

"You don't fight with machetes, you fight with scalpels." Alex replied. "You don't build mass hovels and send your peasants to break rocks or plow fields, not when you can build robots en masse to do the ugly heavy lifting. You don't use systematic ideals of society based on some failed old world that burnt itself into a husk, you pick out the only thing those malcontents gave us – their super technologies and all the lands they left shattered."

"What technologies?" Veronica asked, very very curious.

"Things that would make us a very big target for your Brotherhood friends, the Republic, whatever remnant of the Enclave is left…essentially anyone with enough guns and stupidity to try and take our stuff."

I don't or can't trust you, that was what that meant. Or that's what Arcade would say.

"So what? In response to threats you're going to keep these new technologies secret?" Arcade asked, "If you have something that can benefit everyone then everyone should know."

He shook his head, "No. In time it'll all become very apparent as to what we have and what it'll mean for the future of this planet." He was completely serious. The Courier and Alex together were sold on whatever this thing was.

What was it? Was it what he found in the mysterious empty place he'd been sent to find somewhere in the uncharted lost world?

"And only you and House can know this? Can use it?" Julie asked timidly.

Alex shrugged, finished his beer. He was the personification of ease.

"If you want to see the face of democracy Julie, then just look at the scoured earth around us." That was pure House, the haughty supremacy that didn't afford the egotistical jerk to think about saving the world when it had existed, "In time there will be something we can do about that, about true unity and deliberation, but for now you all have to follow our lead."

Julie's face flickered in impatience. "House's lead just meant I spent all morning patching people up because they dared to ask why their water had been subverted, their food lifted and their house torn up."

Briefly Alex's face registered discord, but it was only a flicker.

"I will talk to Robert about that," He promised. "Trust me. Freeside will be at the very heart of a world without the need for anything like that. We've already discussed it, we don't want just one strip anymore, we need a city."

"A city? What sort of city? House keeps us all in the dust and grime." It was another of the followers who he didn't know, a definite new type; a fresh faced boy with dark brushed hair that cast a long shadow against his tatty followers getup.

"It takes more than a day within what's been a warzone to dramatically upend society boy," Alex replied tesily. "But if you understood what I'm talking about, an actual society based on extreme technological advantage and rapid industrialization, then you would understand that we need a workforce for that."

"Yeah, because House's can't built robots with sloth and greed activator's I'd bet." Arcade muttered.

The tension was palpable, and Veronica's first instinct was to interject with some witty and funny to put them all at ease.

"Listen to me," The Courier's gravest voice intercepted them all first however, so tame but with that slick edge. "House isn't a saint, neither am I. But what we are together is the sole source of collectivized power. He wanted to keep Vegas like an enclave of wealth surrounded by dozens of Freeside's, I advised him to build an actual city, with actual lives for people. Now I'll keep it simple, the Followers along with the Brotherhood have no real power but both together have certain specialties: medicinal, educational, mechanical, you have both spent all of your time gathering up pieces of useful information, including your storehouses in the Boneyard and the Brotherhood's linkhouses crossing the mid-west, important pieces of the old world. Now that means that you have the opportunity to work with us to build this new city, this new nation in effect, and find your influence rejuvenated as we rise."

"And if we don't? If we can't put up with House speaking to us like children?" Julie asked.

"Then you can pick up your pieces and leave," The Courier told them. "Go up with the Khan's and chip bark off stumps, or wander with the sorrows, but it'll mean your eventual withering."

"We have to think on this." Julie said. Veronica realized how much the threat and promise was there.

"Hole dweller, make sure your people have an idea of what's been asked of them," The Courier said, and then he was slinking off to talk to an approaching woman who looked far too formal in a city slicker get up, leaving them all to take in his words and meaning.

"Giving everything to House, our loyalties and our knowledge, and for what? House's word," Arcade's head rolled, Julie licked her lips in distaste.

Veronica stood between them thinking: What would the elder say to that? What should she think of that?


End file.
